THE  UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

LIBRARY 


THE  WILMER  COLLECTION 

OF  CIVIL  WAR  NOVELS 

PRESENTED  BY 

RICHARD  H.  WILMER,  JR. 


Ktu. 


U/y. 


/ 


^^^/r^/f-^r^ 


-Tr^J^i^ 


''-'.  r^ 


WALTER  MAETIN 


OR 


Sh^  inttmjf  t\t^  3tU^h  M&  tto  d^^mp. 


PUBLISHED  BY  THE 
AMEEICAN  TKACT  SOCIETY, 

150  NASSAU-STKEET,  NEW  YORK. 


ExTEEED  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  18G4,  by  the 
American  Tract  Society,  in  tlie  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court 
of  the  United  States  for  the  Southern  District  of  New  York. 


This  narrative,  truthM  in  its  facts  and 
simple  in  its  style,  is  given  to  the  boys 
and  girls  of  our  country  by  one  who  well 
knows  the  persons  described,  and  who 
hopes  their  history  may  be  an  induce- 
ment to  others  to  seek  early  the  paths  of 
peace  and  true  wisdom. 


531940 


CONTENTS. 


CHAPTER  I. 
The  Wrestling  ---- 7 

CHAPTEE  n. 
Studying  and  Improving - --     22 

CHAPTER  m. 
The  Moral  Family 38 

CHAPTER  IV. 

The  Conversion  - 52 

CHAPTER  V. 
The  Last  Farewell 67 

CHAPTER  YI. 
From  the  Mill  to  the  School 77 

CHAPTER  Vn. 
The  Chastening-- 93 

CHAPTER  Yin. 
Progress - —  106 

CHAPTER  IX. 
The  Enlistment 122 


6  CONTENTS. 

CHAPTER  X. 
The  Camp 137 

CHAPTER  XI. 
The  Mission 155 

CHAPTER  Xn. 
Walter's  Conclusion - 172 


WALTER  MARTIN. 


CHAPTER  I 

THE  WKESTLING. 

Down  tlie  great  stairs  they  went; 
down,  down,  one  flight,  two  flights,  three ; 
men  and  women,  boys  and  girls,  with  a 
few  elderly  faces  mingled  in  the"  motley 
crowd ;  but  the  great  throng  principally 
composed  of  youthful  forms.  These  went 
tripping  along  with  buoyant  steps,  not- 
withstanding the  labor  they  had  been 
performing;  for  youth  is  elastic,  and  as 
they  stepped  out  into  the  open  air,  and 
the  fresh  breeze  fanned  their  cheeks, 
they  laughed  as  gayly  as  though  their 
work  had  been  pastime  instead  of  toil. 


8  WALTEE   MAETIN. 

The  bell  of  the  large  manufactory  told 
them  it  was  the  hour  for  dinner,  and  here 
they  were,  the  operatives  of  the  Moni- 
mock  Mills,  where  great  webs  of  cotton 
sheetings  were  each  day  prepared  for  the 
market  of  the  world.  Two  or  three  hun- 
dred women  filed  along,  generally  with 
the  sweet  freshness  of  youth  shining  out 
under  their  simple  cape-bonnets  or  dilap- 
idated straws,  with  shawls  of  every  con- 
ceivable texture  and^hue,  and  dresses  of 
chintz  or  delaine,  soiled  or  clean,  tattered 
or  whole,  according  to  the  characteristics 
of  the  wearers.  Men  were  there  too,  in 
greasy  overalls,  with  slouched  caps;  or 
neat  and  tidy,  because  the  unsightly 
overdress  had  been  left  hanging  in  the 
mill,  while  they  went  home  in  a  clean 
suit  with  a  manly  air. 

How  refreshing  was  the  pure  air. 
How  glad  was  each  one  to  escape  the 
noisy  workhouse.     And  yet,  labor  there 


THE   WBESTLING.  9 

was  more  agreeable  than  in  some  situa- 
tions. Many  a  merry  laugh  echoed  within 
those  walls ;  many  a  lifetime  friendship 
was  formed  and  cemented  there. 

But  if  a  few  characters  of  noble  mould 
were  there,  it  must  be  acknowledged  that 
the  main  current  of  thought  was  low. 
The  coarse  jest,  the  rough  words,  and  the 
worthless  song  all  furnished  proof  of  the 
uneducated  and  unsanctified  state  of  the 
hearts  within.  To  a  person  who  reflected 
that  each  soul  here  was  destined  to  live 
for  ever,  when  earth  and  its  transient 
pleasures  have  passed  away,  it  was  pain- 
ful to  witness  the  great  want  of  serious 
thought,  or  of  desire  to  prepare  for  the 
last  great  change. 

There  was  one  wish  common  to  all  who 
toiled  here,  and  that  was,  to  receive  the 
wages  of  their  labor,  the  money  due  for 
continued  diligence.  For  this  they  all 
wrought,  the  young  and  the  old ;  for  this 


10  WALTEE   MAETIX. 

they  spent  their  breath,  and  shut  them- 
selves up  with  the  scent  of  the  oil  and 
the  click  of  flying  wheels. 

Xot  that  all  used  their  money  with 
discretion,  for  some  wasted  it  as  snow 
wastes  before  a  noonday  sun ;  but  all 
wanted  it.  For  it  children  were  i^laced 
here;  chi]dren  who  ought  to  haye  been 
in  school  were  obliged  to  work  their  daily 
round,  compelled  by  avaricious  fathers  or 
poverty-bound  mothers,  or  because  they 
were  orphans,  and  must  earn  their  own 
living  in  the  world. 

Down  they  come  now,  a  band  by 
themselves,  shouting,  tumbling,  tripping 
and  jostling  each  other  about  with  the 
wildness  and  abandon  of  the  untrained 
spirits  of  headstrong  boys  who  had  been 
curbed  for  five  hours,  and  now  were 
liberated  for  a  brief  season  of  freedom. 
Like  young  colts  loosened  from  the  stall, 
and  permitted  to  caper  and  frisk  in  the 


THE   WRESTLING.  11 

green  fields,  these  boys  caiight  the  fresh- 
ness of  the  open  air,  and  indulged  the 
impulsiveness  of  their  untamed  natures. 

"I  say,  Jim,  come  on,"  shouted  Tom 
Hardy;  "let's  have  a  rouser.  Come 
out  here,  and  pitch  into  me,  if  you  want 
to.  I  '11  show  you  how  quick  I  '11  lay 
you  flat." 

''That's  right;  go  it,  boys,"  said  Ned 
Manson;  ''any  thing  for  fun.  Stand  back 
here,  boys  ;  give  'em  fai»  play.  Now  take 
him,  Jim.     You  can  beat  him  any  time," 

"Beat  me!"  said  Tom,  drawing  him- 
self up  to  his  utmost  height;  "I  should 
like  to  see  the  boy  that  can  do  that." 

"Hurrah  then;  I'm  the  one,"  said 
Jim,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  shoulder 
of  Tom.  Quick  as  thought  they  grasp- 
ed each  other,  and  began  manoeuvring 
with  efforts  to  put  each  other  on  the 
ground;  while  the  other  boys  grouped 
around,   cheering  and  shouting   as   the 


12  WALTEE  MAKTIN. 

game  went  on.  For  the  moment,  dinner 
was  forgotten. 

James  Clark,  or  ''Jim,"  as  he  was 
called,  was  a  delicate,  slender  boy,  the 
son  of  a  pious  father,  and  it  seemed  a 
pity  that  so  good  a  man  should  expose 
his  son  to  such  influences  for  the  sake  of 
gain.  Better  remain  at  home,  even  with 
privations,  than  risk  the  temptations  of 
dangerous  associations. 

Tom  Hardy  ^as  strong  and  burly; 
and  if  he  lacked  the  agility  of  Jim,  he 
compensated  for  it  by  sturdy  strength 
and  firmness  of  compact  limb.  He  had 
a  fancy  for  trials  of  strength,  and  always 
rejoiced  when  his  rough  challenges  were 
accepted.  Jim,  Avith  his  sanguine  tem- 
perament, agility,  and  suppleness,  was 
not  willing  to  yield  the  palm,  and  so  the 
present  contest  became  warmer  than  they 
intended. 

"  Hurrah  !'"  cried  Ned  Manson,  as  one 


THE  WEESTLING.  13 

or  tlie  other  seemed  likely  to  fall;  "bet 
you  a  treat  Jim  will  beat  him.'' 

"Nonsense,"  cried  another,  "  Jim  a'n't 
half  so  stout  as  Tom.  I  '11  take  your  bet. 
Tom  ']1  beat." 

Thus  the  youthful  contestants  and  the 
youthful  spectators  were  already  sharing 
those  high  excitements  which,  followed 
into  manhood,  lead  to  the  race,  to  cards, 
to  high  betting,  and  then  to  the  treat,  the 
flushed  cheek,  and  the  unsteady  hand. 

At  this  moment  another  boy  came 
down  the  stairs,  and  stepped  quickly 
upon  the  threshold  of  the  open  outer 
door.  He  was  a  thoughtful-looking  youth 
of  thirteen,  with  a  keen  black  eye,  and  a 
pleasant,  but  resolute  countenance.  He 
paused  suddenly  at  the  sight  of  the  now 
almost  angry  wrestlers,  and  gazed  upon 
them  with  a  look  of  surprise. 

"Take  care  there,"  said  Ned,  who 
seemed  to  be  chief  speaker;  " take  care, 


14  WALTEK   MAETIN. 

Jim ;  keep  cool,  or  Tom  will  have  you. 
See,  Walter,"  turning  to  tlie  new-comer, 
''don't  they  handle  each  other  well?'' 

But  Walter  did  not  reply.  He  still 
stood  on  the  threshold,  with  an  expres- 
sion of  mingled  pity,  contempt,  and  dis- 
gust. 

Poor  Jim  was  growing  tired.  He  had 
thrown  his  whole  energies  into  the  first 
efforts,  with  a  determination  to  break 
down  the  big,  blustering  Tom;  but  now 
he  was  exhausted,  and  Tom,  taking  a 
sudden  advantage,  laid  him  flat  upon  his 
back,  and  then  gave  a  shout  of  triumph. 

The  boys  scattered  at  once ;  there  was 
no  more  time  to  lose,  and  Tom,  giving  a 
glance  of  triumph  at  his  fallen  adversary, 
started  upon  a  run  like  the  others. 

Walter  Martin,  however,  remained 
watching  the  defeated  Jim  ;  and  seeing 
that  he  needed  help,  went  to  him  and 
helping  him  to  rise,  brushed  the  dirt  from 


THE   WRESTLING.  15 

liis  clothes,  smootlied  Ms  hair  with  his 
own  pocket-comb,  and  then  walked  by 
his  side. 

"How  came  you  in  such  a  scrape?" 
said  Walter;  "I  shouldn't  think  you 
would  meddle  with  such  a  fellow  as  Tom 
Hardy." 

''Well,  he  dared  me,"  said  Jim,  ''and 
the  boys  would  all  laugh  if  I  backed  out, 
and  say  I  was  a  coward." 

"I  should  let  them  laugh  then,"  said 
Walter. 

"I  suppose  you  would,"  replied  Jim; 
"you  can  do  different  from  anybody  else." 

"Why  can  I  do  different?" 

"Oh,  because  you  don't  care  if  the 
boys  do  laugh  at  you." 

"Yes,  I  do  care,"  said  Walter;  "I  do 
not  like  to  be  laughed  at ;  but  if  they  tell 
me  I  am  a  coward  because  I  will  not 
fight,  I  think  it  requires  more  courage  to 
resist  the  accusation  and  persevere  in  the 


16  WALTER   MAETIN. 

right  than  it  does  to  fight,  and  so  I  think 
I  have  more  true  courage  than  they.'"' 

''Yes,"  said  Jim,  "I  know  you  have. 
You  never  fear  to  face  the  boys  at  any 
time,  no  matter  what  they  are  doing ;  but 
I  can't  do  as  you  can." 

"Why  not?"  said  Walter. 

''Why,  the  boys  would  laugh  at  me." 

"Yes,  there  is  the  trouble,"  said  Wal- 
ter. "You  fear  the  laugh,  and  so  you 
fight.  Try  now,  and  see  if  you  cannot 
show  moral  courage,  the  true  courage 
that  faces  evil  and  conquers  it ;  and  if  you 
cannot  at  first  resist  the  boys,  keep  away 
from  them." 

"But  how  can-  I  keep  away  from 
them." 

"Do  as  I  do.  Wait  a  little  when  the 
bell  rings,  and  don't  get  into  the  rush. 
Stay  behind,  take  off  your  overalls,  wash 
your  face,  comb  your  hair,  and  brush 
your  clothes,  then  you  can  go  home  look- 


THE   WRESTLING.  11 

ing  like  a  gentleman.  Then  don't  go 
back  a  minute  too  soon,  so  that  the  boys 
can't  have  time  to  tempt  you;  and  by 
and  by  you  will  like  my  way  much  bet- 
ter than  your  old  way.  Besides,  what 
would  your  father* say  if  he  saw  you 
where  I  did?" 

By  this  time  they  had  reached  Jim's 
door,  and  he  went  into  the  house,  pon- 
dering Walter's  last  question,  "What 
would  your  father  say?"  His  father  did 
not  live  in  the  village,  but  three  miles 
out,  on  a  small  farm.  He  was  a  good 
man,  but  as  his  farm  furnished  him  little 
money,  he  sent  his  son  to  the  factory  to 
earn  more,  not  thinkihg  that  possibly 
this  might  lead  to  vice  and  ruin.  But 
God,  who  "seeth  not  as  man  seeth,"  had 
a  watchful  care  over  the  son  of  the  hon- 
est, praying  parent. 

Jim  ate  his  dinner  silently,  still  con- 
sidering  Walter's   advice  and  his  last 


18  ,VALTEK   MAETIN. 

question.  Then  putting  on  his  cap,  he 
waited  at  the  door  till  he  saw  Walter 
coming  back,  when  with  a  bright  smile 
he  ran  out  to  meet  him. 

"Walter/*'  said  he,  "may  I  go  and 
come  with  you,  so  that  the  boys  need  not 
laugh  at  me?'' 

"Yes,"  said  Walter,  "  I  should  be  glad 
to  have  you." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Jim.  "I  have 
been  thinking  of  the  question  you  asked 
me,  and  I  want  to  quit  the  company  of 
those  rude  boys ;  for  I  know  my  father 
would  feel  bad  if  he  thought  I  was  doing 
wrong.  I  should  not  like  to  have  him 
know  how  I  behaved  this  noon.'' 

The  bell  had  ceased  its  working  call, 
the  men  and  boys  were  in  their  places, 
the  long,  steady  mules  were  just  recom- 
mencing their  patient  roll,  back  and  forth, 
back  and  forth,  bearing  as  they  went 
their  long  rows  of  spools,  from  which  the 


THE   WliESTLIXG.  19 

fme  cotton  threads  spun  out  their  even 
length,  twisting,  whirling,  buzzing,  and 
sometimes  snapping,  requiring  the  agile 
movements  of  nimble  fingers  to  join  them 
again  and  keep  the  machine  in  running 
order. 

The  overseer  had  just  hung  up  his 
coat  and  stepped  out  into  the  room  as 
Walter  and  James  entered,  so  the  boys 
had  but  little  chance  to  begin  any  sport 
with  the  discomfited  wrestler.  They 
could  only  wink,  twist  their  faces  into 
meaning  grimaces,  cough  with  a  peculiar 
sound,  and  extend  such  sly  hints  to  him 
as  they  were  sure  he  would  understand. 
He  went  quietly  to  his  work,  taking  no 
notice  of  these  manifestations,  and  the 
room  assumed  its  customary  activities. 

The  boys  who  assisted  the  spinners 
were  called  "back  boys,''  because  it  w^as 
their  duty  to  go  back  of  the  mules,  and 
taking  away  the  spools  which  had  been 


20  WALTER   MAETIX. 

emptied  of  the  cotton  roping,  replace 
them  with  full  ones,  from  which  to  spin 
the  fine  threads.  They  also  assisted  in 
keeping  the  machinery  clean,  and  were 
general  waiters  for  the  men  who  employ- 
ed them,  each  man  having  a  boy  assign- 
ed him. 

Sometimes  the  boys  took  a  cloth,  and 
while  the  heavy  machine  rolled  its  way 
forward  to  the  spools,  they  stooped  to  the 
floor  on  the  other  side,  and  rubbing  the 
cloth  on  the  straight  beam,  slipped  rap- 
idly through  underneath  the  low  rails, 
coming  out  safely  on  the  other  side  before 
the  machine  rolled  back,  with  a  force 
which  would  have  crushed  the  luckless 
one  who  had  been  caught  lagging.  A 
spectator,  unaccustomed  to  the  sight, 
would  have  shuddered  for  the  fate  of  the 
boy,  who  himself  had  no  fear. 

Tom  Hardy  having  a  great  desire  to 
know  the  mind  of  Jim,  dusted  his  mule, 


THE   WEESTLING.  21 

filled  his  spools,  and  seeing  that  every 
thing  was  right,  took  a  trip  across  the 
room,  'Ho  see  if  Jim  was  sore,"  he  said. 

"I  say,"  said  he,  coming  up  to  him; 
"do  you  feel  good  after  it?  If  you  do  n't, 
I  '11  give  you  a  little  more  to-night ;  just 
for  fun,  you  know." 

"Halloo,  here,"  said  Walter,  who  had 
seen  Tom's  movement,  and  followed  him; 
"do  you  see  the  old  man  there,  Tom?" 

Tom  looked  around,  and  saw  the  man 
for  whom  he  worked,  and  whom  he  usual- 
ly designated  as  "the  old  man,"  in  a 
towering  passion.  He  was  a  man  of  an 
imperious  temper,  and  not  pleased  to 
have  his  "back  boy"  running  off  without 
leave;  so  without  stopping  for  more 
words,  Tom  made  haste  back  again  to  his 
work,  receiving  a  kick  for  leaving,  be- 
sides knowing  that  the  boys  were  all 
laughing  at  his  discomfiture.  There  was 
no  more  trouble  for  Jim  that  day. 


22  WALTER    MARTIN. 


CHAPTER  II. 

STUDYING  AND  IMPROVING. 

Night  came,  suspending  the  day's  la- 
bors, and  again  the  bell  jingled  its  wel- 
come summons ;  welcome  always  when  it 
was  a  release  from  toil,  but  sometimes 
greeted  with  a  sigh  when  it  called  back 
the  half-rested  ones  to  a  renewal  of  their 
duties. 

"Wait  a  little,  James,"  said  Walter; 
"let  the  crowd  go.  I  have  something 
here  for  you." 

So  James  loitered  behind,  and  then  he 
and  Walter  preparing  themselves  tidily, 
followed  the  other  operatives  down  the 
broad  stairs. 

"I  have  a  book  here,"  said  Walter 
when  they  were  out  in  the  street;  "some- 
times I  get  a  little  time  to  read  in  the 


STUDYING   AND   IMPEOVING.  23 

mill,  and  if  you  would  like  it  you  can 
liave  it  this  evening.  You  may  be  lone- 
ly if  you  stay  at  home,  and  I  hope  you 
will  not  go  out.  If  the  boys  are  to  have 
a  high  time^  let  them  have  it  without 
you." 

James  accepted  the  book,  gave  the 
requisite  promise,  and  Walter  ran  for  his 
home.  It  was  always  a  j^leasure  for  him 
to  get  home.  The  sight  of  his  dear 
mother's  face,  the  evening  reunion  of  the 
family  circle,  the  well-spread  board,  the 
books,  the  papers,  the  few  minutes'  pri- 
vate consultation  concerning  the  next 
day's  family  arrangements,  all  these  home 
scenes  were  dear  to  the  loving  boy. 

The  youngest  of  a  band  of  six  brothers, 
delicate,  thoughtful,  and  domestic  in  his 
habits,  it  was  not  strange  that  Walter 
was  the  pet  of  his  mother,  and  was  re- 
garded generally  as  the  household  baby. 
Some  of  his  older  brothers  worked  in 


24  WALTER  MAETIN. 

otlier  departments  of  tlie  same  mill ;  and 
though  in  their  own  private  circle  they 
sometimes  jested  the  young  boy  too 
roughly,  they  were  very  careful  that 
others  should  not  do  so.  -So  his  elder 
brother  Frank,  finding  that  Walter  must 
go  into  the  mill,  and  that  this  was  his 
father's  firm  decision,  went  to  the  over- 
seer and  exerted  his  influence  to  procure 
him  a  situation  under  an  honest,  sober 
man,  who  treated  him  always  with  con- 
sideration and  kindness. 

It  was  well  for  Walter  that  he  was 
thus  protected.  It  is  a  wise  saying,  that 
"God  tempers  the  wind  to  the  shorn 
lamb ;"  and  in  this  case  the  great  Father 
was  not  unmindful  of  the  fragile  lad,  but 
threw  around  him  the  arm  of  his  protec- 
tion. 

Books  were  Walter's  unceasing  com- 
panions. He  carried  them  to  the  mill, 
he  sat  up  late  to  read  them,  he  walked 


STUDYING   AND    IMPEOVING.  25 

the  streets  with  them  in  his  hands,  and 
he  even  carried  them  to  the  table  with 
him;  though  the  laugh  of  his  larger 
brothers,  and  the  name  of  "bookworm,'' 
prevented  tke  repetition  of  the  last  act 
as  often  as  he  would  have  liked. 

He  did  not  read  trashy  novels,  but  a 
well-selected  assortment  of  histories  and 
biographies,  even  ascending  the  scale  to 
a  few  scientific  works  and  an  occasional 
poem.  Deprived  of  the  benefits  of  school, 
and  shut  up  to  the  routine  of  daily  labor, 
he  yet  contrived  to  keep  pace  with  those 
of  more  abundant  privileges,  and  his 
countenance  assumed  the  intelligent  ex- 
pression of  the  young  scholar,  instead  of 
the  vacancy  of  the  mere  drudge. 

"I  never  see  that  boy,"  said  one  gen- 
tleman to  another  as  Walter  passed  them 
on  his  way  to  the  mill,  "but  I  think 
he  will  not  always  plod  in  this  factory 
path." 


26  WALTER  MARTIN. 

''He  is  a  fine-lookmg  boy,  certainly," 
replied  the  otlier. 

"He  is  more  tlian  fine-lookingv'  con- 
tinued the  first  speaker.  ' '  His  fine  looks 
are  the  result  of  noble  thoughts ;  it  is  not 
mere  jDhysical  beauty  he  possesses.  Stu- 
dious, truthful,  diligent,  respectful,  he 
bids  fair  to  become  one  of  our  best  and 
truest  men.'' 

Thus  the  good  conduct  of  boys  is  ob- 
served by  men  oftener  than  boys  think ; 
their  characters,  good  or  ill,  become 
stamped  in  the  eyes  of  the  world  as  well 
as  in  their  hearts  and  countenances.  In- 
dolence and  vice  leave  sure  marks  on  the 
countenance  and  demeanor,  as  well  as  in- 
telligence and  virtue. 

That  factory  bell,  how  punctually  came 
its  notes  through  the  still  morning  air, 
pealing  on  the  ears  of  all  who  followed 
its  behests.  Some  started  slowly,  and 
with  many  groans  and  yawns,  being  jad- 


STUDYING    AND   IMPEOVING.  27 

ed  out  witli  late  hours  and  dissipation, 
and  not  refreshed  by  slumber.  It  was 
otherwise  with  Walter  and  his  brothers. 

"A  person  feels  paid  for  early  rising 
such  a  morning  as  this,"  said  Walter,  gaz- 
ing upon  the  gorgeous  clouds  of  the  east- 
ern sky.  "Come,  let  us  hurry,  Nat,  and 
take  a  run  down  the  bank  before  the 
second  bell  rings.  We  shall  feel  the  bet- 
ter for  it." 

"Agreed,"  replied  Nat,  who  was  two 
years  older  than  Walter ;  and  speeding 
down  the  back  stairs,  they  were  going 
out  at  the  back  door,  when  they  met  their 
mother. 

"Why,  mother,"  said  Walter,  "I  be- 
lieve you  are  always  up ;  I  can't  get  up 
first  if  I  try." 

"Why  shouldn't  I  get  up?"  she  re- 
plied; "my  children  are  obliged  to  get 
up,  and  it  is  right  that  I  should." 

"Oh  no,  mother;   we  are  young,  it 


28  WALTER   MAETIN. 

does  not  hurt  us  to  see  the  early  dew, 
but  you  ought  to  rest/' 

"I  could  not  rest  if  you  were  up,''  said 
she;  "it  is  my  happiness  to  share  the  la- 
bors of  my  boys,"  laying  her  hands  upon 
the  heads  of  the  two.  "Long  may  I  be 
spared  to  rise  in  the  morning  and  care 
for  you,  my  industrious,  faithful  sons." 

How  the  touch  of  her  gentle  hand,  and 
her  kind  words,  strengthened  their  young 
hearts,  as  bounding  down  the  bank,  they 
took  a  run  by  the  side  of  the  swiftly  flow- 
ing river,  coming  out  by  a  circuitous  path 
near  the  mill.  Here  they  found  flocks  of 
women,  men,  and  boys  hurrying  to  their 
daily  toil. 

Our  two  boys  placed  their  hands  upon 
the  rails  of  the  fence  separating  the 
meadow-path  from  the  street,  and  with  a 
brisk  leap  came  over  into  the  road,  just 
as  Tom  Hardy  and  his  band  came  out 
from  their  boarding-house  doors. 


STUDYING   AND    IMPEOVING.  29 

"Hallo,  Natl"  said  Tom,  "why  didn't 
you  come  down  to  Conant's  last  night? 
Had  a  high  time  down  there,  I  tell  you." 

"Had  something  else  to  do,"  replied 
Nat  drily. 

"Wonder  what?"  said  Tom.  "Cooped 
up  with  Walter,  under  mamma's  apron 
strings  ?" 

"Couldn't  stop  for  that,"  replied  Nat, 
"hurried  to  bed  so  as  to  get  up  in  sea- 
son this  morning  to  wash  the  bed-feath- 
ers off  my  face." 

Tom's  anger  flashed,  as  involuntarily 
putting  his  hand  to  his  forehead,  he  rub- 
bed thence  some  of  the  down  which  had 
clung  to  it  from  his  landlady's  leaky  pil- 
low. But  it  was  useless  being  angry 
with  Nat.  He  was  proverbial  for  his 
coolness ;  and  his  dry  sarcasms,  cut  where 
they  might,  or  hit  as  they  would,  were 
commonly  endured  by  the  boys  without 
retaliation. 


30  WALTEE   MAKTIX. 

James  waited  till  he  saw  Walter  and 
Nat,  and  then  joining  them,  went  quietly 
along  in  their  company.  Nat  worked  in 
the  card-room,  so  Walter  and  James  en- 
tered their  own  room  together,  as  they 
did  the  day  before. 

"Hurrah!"  said  Ned  Manson,  "I  be- 
lieve Jim  has  got  under  Walter's  wing. 
Poor  fellow;  got  so  whipped  yesterday, 
he  is  afraid  to  go  alone.  Halloo,  Jim; 
have  you  tied  yourself  to  Walter  with  a 
bed-cord  ?'' 

How  Jim  burned  at  the  taunt;  but  a 
wink  from  Walter  prevented  his  reply, 
and  the  starting  of  the  machinery  pre- 
cluded further  conversation. 

Walter  was  never  very  happy  in  the 
mill.  He  longed  for  more  time  to  read, 
more  time  to  study  and  to  think;  he 
wanted  different  associates,  companions 
whose  thoughts  sometimes  soared  above 
the  spindle  and  the  loom ;  for  he  looked 


STUDYING  AND   IMPEOVING.  31 

upon  life  as  a  gift  too  sacred  to  be  trifled 
away  in  thoughtless  jests  or  light  amuse- 
ments, or  bartered  for  sensual  enjoy- 
ments. Something  in  the  boy  looked  up- 
ward, and  though  his  hands  were  tied  to 
daily  toil,  his  brain  was  busy  with  flying 
thoughts,  and  his  heart  was  every  day 
learning  lessons  of  patience  and  love. 

In  his  eagerness  for  knowledge,  he  often 
laid  upon  the  window-sill  near  his  work 
his  open  book — grammar,  history,  alge- 
bra, or  geometry — and  as  he  flitted  back 
and  forth  at  his  labor  of  dusting,  remov- 
ing spools,  carrying  boxes,  or  mending 
the  frail,  snapping  threads,  he  would  pause 
for  a  moment  at  his  window,  read  a  sen= 
tence  in  his  book,  and  then  revolve  it  in 
his  mind  as  he  darted  back  to  his  work. 

He  was  so  faithful,  diligent,  good-tem- 
pered, and  obliging,  that  he  was  a  great 
favorite  with  his  master,  who  carefully 
avoided  harshness  or  unkindness  in  deal- 


32  WALTER   MARTIN. 

ing  with  him.  The  other  boys  regarded 
his  situation  with  envy,  and  thought  all 
the  men  were  partial  to  him  on  account 
of  his  brother  Frank,  who  was  the  second 
overseer  of  the  room  and  a  general  favor- 
ite. 

It  was  true,  Frank  had  used  his  influ- 
ence in  the  selection  of  Walter's  master ; 
but  beyond  that,  the  good  conduct  of  the 
boy  himself  had  won  all  the  kind  treat- 
ment he  received.  This  was  a  point  the 
other  boys  overlooked.  They  did  not 
consider  that  their  own  "shirking,"  care- 
lessness, and  ill-temper,  brought  upon 
them  the  kicks  and  abusive  language  so 
frequently  and  plentifully  showered  upon 
them  by  the  impulsive  men  who  employed 
them. 

But  Walter's  kindness  to  James  had 
awakened  new  feelings  in  the  heart  of  the 
wayward  boy,  and  he  watched  his  kind 
friend  with  a  lively  interest.    He  wanted 


STUDYING  AND   IMPEOVING.  33 

to  know  how  he  found  time  to  read  and 
study  so  much,  without  neglecting  his 
work;  and  he  was  surprised  to  see  how 
diligent  and  quick  he  was  in  performing 
his  work,  how  every  thing  seemed  to  be 
done  beforehand,  never  lagging,  never 
out  of  the  way  when  wanted. 

*'I  don't  wonder  'boss  Abbot'  is  kind 
to  him, "  soliloquized  James.  ' '  There  is  n't 
a  bit  of  chance  to  find  fault.  I  wonder 
how  it  would  operate  if  I  should  try  his 
way.  I  might  as  well  try  it,  any  way. 
It  isn't  very  pleasant  to  have  my  ears 
boxed  and  my  hair  pulled  just  when 
'boss'  has  a  fancy;"  and  brushing  back 
his  hair  with  his  hand,  he  flew  about 
with  such  a  bright  smile  and  buoyant 
step,  kept  up  the  threads  so  nicely,  and 
polished  every  thing  so  beautifully  with- 
out being  asked,  that  ''boss  Wyman" 
looked  on  with  amazement. 

"What's  got  into  the  boy?"  thought 


34  WALTER   MARTIN. 

he;  "it  is  perfectly  surprising.  Some 
remarkable  fit  has  seized  him.  I  did  n't 
know  he  could  do  so  much." 

''  That 's  firstrate,  Jim,"  said  he ;  "you 
have  made  the  old  machine  look  like  new. 
You  can  rest  ten  minutes,  if  you  want 
to.     There  's  nothing  to  do  now." 

It  was  James'  turn  to  be  astonished. 

"  Boss  Wyman,  of  his  own  accord,  tell 
a  fellow  he  may  rest!  I  didn't  know 
there  was  a  streak  of  kindness  in  him. 
That 's  because  I  tried  to  please  him.  I 
wonder  if  the  other  boys  wouldn't  suc- 
ceed as  well,  if  they  should  try.  I'll 
run  over  to  Walter's  window,  and  see 
what  that  book  is." 

The  book  proved  to  be  an  elementary 
work  on  natural  sciences,  and  was  open 
at  a  page  on  the  laws  of  light. 

"Do  you  read  such  books  as  this?" 
asked  James.  "I  thought,  they  were 
such  as  are  studied  at  school." 


STUDYING  AND   IMPEOVING.  35 

''So  they  are,"  replied  Walter;  ''but 
you  know  I  cannot  go  to  school,  and  have 
to  study  as  I  can." 

"But  what^s  the  use?"  said  James; 
"it  isn't  of  any  use  for  us  to  be  great 
scholars,  and  trudge  around  the  old  mill 
all  our  days.  If  we  learn  ever  so  much, 
nobody  will  know  it." 

"But,"  replied  Walter,  "we  need  not 
stay  here  all  our  days,  if  we  can  know 
enough  to  do  any  thing  else.  Or  even  if 
we  stay,  we  shall  be  more  respected,  and 
become  overseers  or  something  else." 

"  But  we  do  not  need  to  be  extra  schol- 
ars to  be  overseers,"  replied  James. 

"  The  more  we  know,  the  better  over- 
seers we  should  be ;  or  we  could  go  into 
the  counting-room,  and  keep  books ;  or 
at  least  we  can  have  the  pleasure  of  know- 
ing, and  of  being  respectable  men.  But 
how  came  you  over  here  ?  Boss  Wyman 
will  scold  you  when  you  go  back." 


86  WALTEK   MAETIN. 

''No/'  replied  James;  ''he  gave  me 
ten  minutes.  I  had  done  up  the  work 
so  close  there  was  nothing  to  do.  I  tell 
you,  I  begin  to  think  it 's  better  to  pat- 
tern after  you  than  after  Tom  Hardy 
and  Ned  Manson.  But  I  must  go  back 
now;''  and  James  returned  to  his  work 
with  a  smile  on  his  face  and  a  smile  in 
his  heart. 

"Wake  up  here,  Tom,"  said  Tom's 
master.  "Don't  you  see  the  roping  is 
all  out  there?  Fetch  on  some  boxes 
here,  or  I  '11  make  you  tingle." 

Tom  started  suddenly.  Burly  as  he 
was,  he  dared  not  disobey  these  sharp- 
toned  orders,  though  his  head  ached  from 
the  last  night's  dissipation,  and  he  felt 
much  more  like  sleeping  than  he  did  like 
bringing  heavy  boxes  of  roping. 

The  ringing  of  the  bell  once  more  sent 
all  hands  home  from  their  work;  and 
Ned  and  Tom  dropped  their  occupations, 


STUDYING  AND   IMPROVING.  37 

and  ran  as  rapidly  as  possible.  "Walter 
and  James  followed  behind,  as  usual. 

''  Let 's  wait  a  little/^  said  Ned ;  '^  'm 
going  to  get  Nat  to  give  us  a  treat  .to- 
night.'' 

The  boys  paused  at  the  card-room 
door  to  wait  for  Nat,  and  as  he  came 
out,  Ned  caught  him  by  the  shoulder. 

''  Halloo  here,  Nat,"  said  he,  ''  you  are 
just  the  fellow  we  want.  Go  down  to 
Conant's  with  us  to-night.'^ 

''  Start  along  there,  boys,"  said  a  voice 
behind,  and  Nat's  brother  Frank  stepped 
down  the  stairs.  ''Go  home  to  your 
dinner,  and  be  back  in  season.'^ 

Frank  was  their  second  overseer,  and 
the  crestfallen  boys  were  obliged  to  obey. 


^8  WALTEE   MARTIN. 


CHAPTER  III. 

THE  MORAL  FAMILY. 

In  Mr.  Martin's  family,  morality,  a 
strict  observance  of  the  proprieties  of 
society,  and  honorable,  fair  dealing  with 
all  men,  were  accounted  among  the  first 
duties  of  life.  Never  were  six  boys  more 
thoroughly  instructed  in  the  portion  of 
the  commandments  relating  to  the  duties 
of  man  to  man  than  they. 

Profanity  in  all  its  multiplied  forms 
was  strictly  forbidden,  and  the  smallest 
child  would  have  been  punished  for  the 
utterance  of  a  profane  or  vulgar  word,  or 
for  any  substitute  for  swearing  so  com- 
monly adopted  by  those  whose  conscien- 
ces will  not  venture  really  to  take  the 
name  of  the  great  God  in  vain. 

Lying  was  as  strenuously  prohibited, 


THE  MOBAL  FAMILY.  39 

and  "the  truth,  and  nothing  but  the 
truth,"  was  the  motto  for  the  youthful 
band,  enforced  by  parental  authority  and 
parental  example. 

Temperance  too  was  a  ruling  feature. 
Mr.  Martin  himself  was  a  devotee  in  the 
cause  of  temperance.  He  lived  it,  and 
he  talked  it.  In  temperance  meetings 
his  voice  was  often  heard;  and  not  a 
boy  of  his,  from  Frank  down  to  Walter, 
ever  dared  to  sip  a  drop.  Their  even- 
ings were  especially  guarded  against  this 
temptation,  and  they  were  required  either 
to  remain  at  home  or  give  a  reasonable 
excuse  for  absence.  They  did  not  want 
strong  drink,  because  they  had  not  learn- 
ed to  love  it,  or  to  like  the  class  of  boys 
who  frequented  the  haunts  of  dissipation. 

Every  boy  must  be  in  at  an  early  hour ; 
not  in  a  barren  home,  devoid  of  interest- 
ing pursuits,  but  in  a  home  where  books, 
periodicals,  newspapers,  and  music  fur- 


40  WALTER   MARTIN. 

nisliecl  abundant  occupation  for  leisure 
hours.  So  the  boys  grew  up  intelligent, 
virtuous,  and  respected. 

But  here  the  father's  influence  paused. 
Having  inculcated  this  outward  morality, 
he  seemed  strangely  to  forget  the  higher 
commands.  The  first  and  greatest,  "Thou 
shalt  love  the  Lord  thy  God,"  was  for- 
gotten in  the  mind  of  the  worldly  man. 
The  love  of  Jesus,  faith  in  his  name,  the 
beauty  of  his  life,  the  necessity  for  a 
change  of  heart,  eternity,  and  the  great 
unknown  future,  all  were  subjects  unmen- 
tioned  in  family  conversation. 

How  blind  is  the  human  heart;  how 
forgetful  of  the  requirements  of  Him  who 
has  made  the  world  and  all  that  is  in  it ! 

There  were  two  sisters  mingled  with 
this  band  of  brothers,  to  give  freshness 
and  life  to  its  evening  gatherings.  It 
was  a  happy  family ;  but  with  the  excep- 
tion of  the  elder  sister,  the  requirements 


THE   MORAL   FAMILY.  41 

of  religion  had  as  yet  met  witli  no  re- 
sponse. She  alone  had  learned  to  pray, 
and  to  draw  sweet  waters  from  the  foun- 
tain of  Jesus'  love. 

Under  these  circumstances,  there  was 
one  point  of  true  morality  which  occu- 
pied a  doubtful  position  in  the  family 
regulations.  The  observance  of  the  Sab- 
bath stood  on  a  poise ;  it  might  be  well 
kept  or  it  might  not,  as  circumstances 
occurred. 

"Don't  go  to  church  to-day,  Ellen," 
said  Frank  one  Sabbath  morning  as  they 
were  at  breakfast.  ' '  I  borrowed  a  copy 
of  those  new  poems  last  night,  and  I  want 
to  read  them  to  you  to-day." 

''  Cannot  you  read  them  after  I  come 
home?"  asked  Ellen.  "You  know  I  do 
not  like  to  be  absent  from  my  place  in 
church.  Come  now,  go  to  church  with 
me,  and  then  you  can  read  to  me  when 
we  come  home." 


42  WALTER  MAETIN. 

"I  think  it  will  storm  before  noon, 
Ellen,"  said  Mrs.  Martin;  ''perhaps  you 
had  better  not  go  to-day." 

"  A  little  storm  wont  hurt  me,  mother ; 
I  can  dress  for  it,  and  take  my  umbrella. 
Come,  Frank,  go  with  me,"  said  Ellen 
pleadingly;  for  she  loved  her  brother, 
and  she  loved  the  house  of  God,  the  sound 
of  prayer,  and  the  faithful  pastor's  words. 

Frank  looked  out  at  the  window,  pon- 
dered a  minute,  and  then  replied,  "I 
don't  feel  like  it  to-day.  What  is  the 
use  for  me  to  go  there,  when  I  want  to 
read  this  book?  I  shall  not  have  much 
time  to  read  this  week,  and  I  wanted  to 
read  to  you  to-day." 

Poor  Ellen;  she  was  a  young  Chris- 
tian, loving  Christ  in  the  depths  of  her 
heart,  but  not  very  well  fortified  with 
reasons  for  the  observance  of  the  Sab- 
bath, except  that  she  knew  God  had 
commanded  it.     She  had  none  at  home 


THE  MOKAL  FAMILY.  43 

to  teach  lier  the  way  of  life ;  and  though 
the  Spirit  of  God,  like  a  little  lamp,  threw 
light  upon  the  dim  chambers  of  her  soul, 
she  offered  to  compromise  with  her  broth- 
er, and  join  him  in  reading  the  poems,  if 
he  would  first  accompany  her  to  church. 
She  did  not  yet  realize  that  every  hour 
of  the  day  is  holy  to  God,  but  was  firm 
in  her  determination  to  go  to  church. 

''Who  will  go  with  me?"  she  asked, 
looking  around  the  group.  But  the  youn- 
ger boys  were  all  imitators  of  Frank,  and 
pleaded  other  occupations. 

"I  do  n't  see  any  use  in  going  to  meet- 
ing,'' said  the  rattling  Herbert.  "Peo- 
ple that  go  to  meeting  are  no  better  than 
those  who  stay  at  home.  Xow  there  is 
Ned  Manson,  as  wicked  a  fellow  as  there 
is  in  the  mill,  but  people  say  his  father  is 
a  church-member.  And  there  is  Wheel- 
er, who  prays  in  the  evening  meetings 
and  is  terribly  pious  every  Sunday,  and 


44  WALTEE  MAKTIN. 

yet  he  will  cheat  every  man  he  trades 
with." 

"That  is  the  way  it  is,"  replied  Mr. 
Martin.  ''Professors  are  no  better  than 
other  people,  nor  ministers  either.  The 
best  way  is  to  do  about  right,  avoid  ev- 
ery thing  bad,  and  we  shall  come  out 
well  enough.  'Pure  religion  and  unde- 
filed  before  God  is,  to  visit  the  fatherless 
and  widows  in  their  affliction.'" 

' '  And  to  keep  yourself  unspotted  from 
the  world,"  added  Ellen. 

"Yes,"  said  her  father;  "that  is,  to 
do  right,  and  keep  yourself  from  bad 
company  and  bad  deeds,  which  I  hope 
my  boys  will  ever  do." 

The  explanation  fell  far  short  of  Ellen's 
ideas  of  the  meaning  of  the  word  "unspot- 
ted." She  pondered  it  as  she  walked 
alone  to  the  house  of  God.  "Unspotted. 
Perfectly  pure.  If  we  gaze  at  a  sheet  of 
new-fallen  snow,  how  dazzling  and  white 


THE   MOKAL   FAMILY.  45 

it  appears.  The  unspotted  heart  must 
be  just  so  pure;  aud  it  cannot  be  so,  un- 
less we  live  very  near  to  God,  and  have 
our  hearts  washed  in  Christ's  blood." 

But  Ellen  found  little  courage  to  ex- 
press her  thoughts  at  home.  She  met 
with  so  many  antagonisms,  so  many  ar- 
guments, and  so  much  reliance  on  good 
works,  or  "living  about  right"  as  they 
expressed  it,  that  it  was  a  wonder  she 
kept  within  herself  so  much  of  the  light 
of  faith  as  was  found  there.  Ah,  Christ 
was  true  to  his  promise  ;  and  while  Sa- 
tan threw  water  on  the  fire  to  quench  its 
light,  the  loving  Saviour  drew  near,  and 
secretly  fed  it  with  the  burning  oil  of  his 
grace.  So  he  ever  does  to  those  who 
trust  in  him.     Grlorious  Saviour,  holy  is 

thv  name. 

t/ 

Walter  had  been  an  attentive  listener 
to  the  morning's  conversation.  In  the 
mind  of  the  young  boy  there  was  a  rest- 


46  WALTER  MARTIN. 

less  longing,  a  seeking  for  something 
which  he  had  not.  There  was  an  up- 
ward looking  of  the  soul,  which  he  him- 
self did  not  understand.  He  plunged 
into  his  studies  and  his  reading,  but  was 
not  satisfied.  The  book  which  alone 
could  satisfy  him  was  yet  unread. 

True,  there  was  a  large  Bible  on  a 
shelf  by  itself  in  the  library ;  but  he  had 
seldom  seen  it  read,  except  by  his  moth- 
er on  a  Sabbath-day.  There  were  other 
Bibles  in  the  house,  and  he  knew  that 
Ellen  always  had  a  pocket-Bible  with 
her ;  but  it  had  never  entered  his  mind 
that  this  book  contained  the  secrets  of 
the  heavenly  and  true  wisdom,  and  was 
a  balm  to  the  weary  soul,  a  refreshing  to 
the  thirsty  heart. 

Ellen  could  have  pointed  him  to  this 
book,  but  she  had  no  thought  that  he 
was  seeking  for  the  pearl  of  great  price. 
There  was  so  strong  an  opposition  to  real 


THE  MOKAL  FAMILY.  47 

religion  among  her  brothers,  that  she  did 
not  speak  of  the  subject  to  them ;  and  she 
lived  among  them  without  thinking  that 
in  their  minds  there  might  be  a  restless- 
ness which  mere  morality  could  not  sat- 
isfy. 

The  breakfast  being  finished,  and  the 
house  still,  Walter  wandered  around  for 
somebody  to  talk  with.  Frank  was 
stretched  on  the  sofa,  absorbed  in  his 
poem,  Mr.  Martin  and  the  boys  were 
scattered  about  reading,  and  Ellen  was 
at  church.  At  last  Walter  found  his 
mother  in  the  kitchen,  sitting  quietly 
alone,  with  the  large  Bible  on  her  lap. 

This  was  just  what  he  wanted.  He 
thought  his  mother  must  be  a  Christian ; 
he  was  sure  she  could  not  live  such  a 
beautiful  life,  unless  she  had  something  in 
her  heart  to  guide  her  footsteps ;  yet  she 
had  never  spoken  to  him  on  this  subject. 

"Mother,"  said  Walter,  ''what  makes 


48  WALTEK  MARTIN. 

Ellen  so  particular  to  go  to  meeting  every 
Sabbath?'' 

''Because  she  enjoys  going,  and  she 
thinks  it  is  right  to  go,"  replied  his 
mother. 

"Well,  mother,  you  seem  to  like  to  go 
sometimes ;  but  you  are  not  so  particular 
about  it.  If  it  storms,  or  any  thing  oc- 
curs to  prevent,  you  stay  at  home.  But 
Ellen  will  not  stay  for  any  thing.  She 
would  not  even  stay  to  please  Frank  this 
morning.     Was  that  right,  mother?" 

"I  think  it  was,"  replied  his  mother. 
''It  certainly  is  right  to  sustain  the  wor- 
ship of  God.  We  are  all  dependent  on 
Him ;  he  is  the  great  Author  of  all  things, 
and  it  is  right  that  people  should  serve 
and  honor  him." 

Never  before  had  Mrs.  Martin  said  so 
much  as  this ;  but  the  inquiring  expression 
of  her  child  had  drawn  out  her  thoughts 
surprisingly. 


THE    MOBAL   FAMILY.  49 

*'  Then  I  am  sure,"  said  "Walter,  "we 
are  very  far  from  doing  right.  There  is 
not  one  in  the  house,  except  Ellen,  that 
ever  feels  the  least  responsibility  about 
going  to  church.  Father  and  all  the 
boys  think  it  quite  a  burden  to  go,  unless 
some  remarkable  man  is  going  to  preach, 
or  some  special  topic  is  to  be  introduced. 
Temperance  meetings,  lyceums,  political 
meetings,  and  all  such  gatherings  they 
attend  if  it  does  storm." 

Mrs.  Martin  was  puzzled.  She  hardly 
knew  what  to  say.  Her  own  example 
had  not  been  perfect  in  this  respect,  and 
her  conscience  was  too  busy  to  permit  a 
ready  reply.  But  she  was  relieved  from 
her  difficulty  by  the  merry  sounds  of  feet 
and  tongues  coming  down  the  back  stairs, 
eagei  to  pop  corn  at  the  kitchen  fire. 

The  corn  was  popped  and  eaten,  and 
the  whole  family  were  still  collected  in 
the   kitchen  when  Ellen  came  in  from 


50  WALTER  MAETIN. 

church.  The  sight  touched  her  heart 
painfully.  They  were  all  tidily  dressed, 
and  seemed  vieing  with  each  other  in 
kindness ;  but  Ellen  remembered  it  was 
the  Sabbath,  and  she  wished  that  her 
brothers  loved  the  house  of  God,  and  her 
father  too.  If  he  would  only  go  to  church 
oftener,  what  an  influence  it  would  have. 
Then  there  was  the  Sabbath-school  en- 
tirely neglected,  and  Ellen  almost  doubt- 
ed whether  they  were  truly  a  moral  fam- 
ily. "  Is  it  really  morality,"  thought  she, 
"  to  neglect  the  church,  and  break  the 
fourth  commandment  by  doing  our  own 
pleasure  on  God's  holy  day?" 

Walter  had,  for  the  time,  forgotten  the 
brief  conversation  he  had  held  with  his 
mother  that  morning;  but  Mrs.  Martin 
well  remembered  it.  Why  should  Wal- 
ter ask  such  questions?  She  dwelt  much 
on  the  matter,  revolving  it  in  her  mind 
while  she  prepared  the  dinner. 


THE   IVrOEAL   FAMILY.  61 

The  keeping  of  the  Sabbath  was  indeed 
a  test- point  in  the  family.  She  knew 
many  families  whose  heads  were  profes- 
sors of  religion,  that  had  no  family  altar, 
and  in  that  respect  she  thought  they  were 
no  better  than  their  family.  But  those, 
people  went  to  church,  at  least  when  it 
was  pleasant,  while  her  boys  did  not  like 
to  attend  church  at  all.  And  when  it 
was  pleasant,  they  sometimes  walked  out, 
either  in  the  street  or  rambling  in  the 
fields ;  arguing  that  as  they  had  so  little 
time  for  breathing  the  fresh  air  during  the 
week,  it  was  necessary  for  their  health  to 
use  the  Sabbath  for  this  purpose. 

At  her  suggestion,  Walter  went  to 
church  with  Ellen  in  the  afternoon. 
Frank  continued  reading  his  poems ;  Mr. 
Martin  tried  an  afternoon  nap ;  the  boys 
found  something  to  read,  and  the  Sabbath 
wore  away,  leaving  its  record  to  be  re- 
viewed at  the  final  day. 


52  WALTEE   MARTIN. 

CHAPTER  lY. 

THE   CONVEESION. 

MoxTHS  passed  on,  leaving  little  trace 
of  their  footsteps  in  the  band  under  Mr. 
Martin's  roof.  All  were  still  there,  tread- 
ing the  usual  round,  save  the  second  son 
James,  who  had  gone  to  the  Saranac  wil- 
derness of  New  York.  He  was  missed 
from  the  group,  but  frequent  letters  told 
of  his  prosperity,  and  already  some  of 
the  brothers  were  expressing  a  desire  to 
follow  him.  Mrs.  Martin  was  glad  they 
did  not  want  to  go  farther  west ;  she  could, 
not  spare  them  for  that,  for  her  sons  were 
her  hope  and  her  joy. 

Walter  still  went  daily  to  the  mill,  and 
there  too  were  Tom  and  Ned  and  James. 

A  bright  but  cold  day  had  come,  and 
Walter's  overcoat  was  buttoned  to  his 


THE   CONVERSION.  53 

chin,  as  lie  ran  back  to  his  work  after 
dinner.  James,  as  usual,  came  out  to  join 
him. 

"Walter,"  said  he,  "I  have  heard 
there  are  to  be  special  meetings  down  in 
the  lower  church.  They  commence  to- 
day.    Don't  you  want  to  go?" 

''I  don't  know,"  said  Walter,  "we 
don't  have  time." 

"We  can  go  in  the  evening,"  replied 
James.  "I  want  to  go  down  to-night, 
and  I  wish  you  would  go  with  me." 

"Well,  perhaps  I  will." 

In  the  mill,  Walter  found  the  meetings 
were  the  general  topic  of  conversation. 
Large  numbers  of  the  men  expressed  their 
determination  to  go ;  and  so  did  many  of 
the  boys,  laughing  and  jesting  however, 
as  they  told  their  various  refisons  for  go- 
ing. 

"I  wish  you  would  call  for  me  this 
evening,"  said  James,  as  he  and  Walter 


54  WALTER   MAETIX. 

left  the  mill  at  night.  "I  had  rather  go 
to  the  meeting  with  you  than  anybody. 
You  saved  me  from  becoming  like  those 
boys,  and  have  been  my  protector  and 
friend ;  and  I  want  you  to  teach  me  the 
way  to  heaven." 

'The  way  to  heaven  !'' 

Walter  repeated  the  expression  to 
himself  as  he  walked  slowly  home.  "The 
way  to  heaven!  Why,  I  do  n't  know  the 
way  myself.  How  can  I  teach  him? 
What  made  him  say  that  to  me?'' 

Then  Walter  recollected  how  pale 
James  had  recently  looked,  how  thin 
and  delicate  he  was ;  and  he  thought, 
"Well,  perhaps  he  will  go  to  heaven  by 
and  by;  who  knows?  I  '11  call  for  him 
to-night,  certainly." 

The  eveni-ng  was  clear  and  beautiful, 
and  the  church  was  already  crowded 
when  Walter  and  James  entered;  so 
passing  up  the  aisle,  they  took  some  low 


THE    CONVEKSION.  55 

seats  near  the  pulpit,  just  as  the  minister 
rose  in  his  place  to  invoke  the  divine 
blessing  on  the  services. 

The  Rev.  Mr.  Jones,  the  preacher  that 
evening,  had  enlisted  under  the  gospel 
banner  from  love  to  Christ  and  a  deep 
sense  of  the  worth  of  souls.  His  preach- 
ing had  been  attended  with  signal  suc- 
cess, and  the  more  he  labored  in  this 
sacred  work  the  more  he  loved  it.  Win- 
ning souls  to  Christ  became  his  chief 
delight,  and  this  evening  he  commenced 
his  sermon  with,  "Behold  the  Lamb  of 
God,  which  taketh  away  the  sin  of  the 
world." 

How  closely  he  portrayed  to  the  heart 
its  depth  of  guilt  before  God,  its  wicked 
unbelief  and  rejection  of  the  offers  of 
pardon,  and  its  utterly  lost  condition. 
Then  came  the  proclamation  of  Jesus, 
the  propitiation  for  our  sins,  who  took 
away  our  guilt,  and  cleansed  us  with  his 


56  WALTER   MAETIN. 

own  blood.  The  congregation  melted 
under  the  fervor  of  his  words,  and  eyes 
unused  to  weep  shed  tears  that  night. 

Walter  had  heard  impressive  sermons 
before,  but  never  one  that  moved  him 
like  this.  Every  sentence  was  fraught 
with  meaning  to  his  awakened  sensibili- 
ties. He  saw. his  heart  in  a  new  light, 
and  the  blackness  of  its  guilt  opened  to 
his  consciousness.  No  longer  did  he  feel 
himself  removed  by  good  works  from  the 
vilest  sinners  who  lived.  Conviction 
followed  conviction  with  deeper  thrust, 
and  he  went  home  with  the  barbed  ar- 
row deep  within  him.  James  was  sad 
and  depressed;  but  so  absorbed  was 
Walter  in  himself,  that  he  scarcely  no- 
ticed his  companion  at  all.  He  wanted 
to  do  something  for  his  own  salvation; 
but  coming  to  Jesus,  believing  on  him 
alone,  seemed  so  simple,  that  his  self- 
righteousness   could  not  understand  it. 


THE   CONVEKSION.  57 

Surely  there  must  be  something  for  him 
to  do  somewhere. 

That  night  he  found  a  Bible  and  read 
long  before  he  retired ;  but  everywhere 
he  found  threatenings  and  condemnation. 
True  he  read,  "Come unto  me,  and  I  will 
give  you  rest;"'  "He  that  believeth  shall 
be  saved;"  and,  "Him  that  cometh  unto 
me  I  will  in  no  wise  cast  out;"  but  his 
excited  mind  seized  hold  upon  none  of 
these  promises.  He  did  not  think  they 
were  for  him.  Everywhere  was  doubt 
and  gloom. 

The  next  morning  he  went  to  his  work 

■  as  usual,  but  there  was  no  peace  in  his 

heart.     He  did  not  speak  of  his  feelings, 

and  none  knew  the  struggles  and  conflicts 

with  which  he  was  contending. 

James  too  was  occupied  with  his  own 
thoughts,  and  though  sure  that  Walter 
was  under  deep  conviction  like  himself, 
he  dared  not  mention  it. 


58  WALTER  MARTIN. 

"I  wish  I  dared  speak  to  him,"  said  he 
to  himself;  "I  want  to  tell  him  that  we 
ought  to  love  Jesus — that  I  think  that 
would  make  us  happy,  and  would  fill  that 
unsatisfied  longing  he  sometimes  talks 
about.  But  he  does  not  look  at  me  to-day. 
I  do  n't  know  what  to  think  of  him." 

Neither  of  the  boys  said  much  about 
the  meeting;  but  in  the  evening,  when 
Walter  went  again,  he  stopped  before 
James'  door  and  found  him  ready. 

Again  the  preacher  presented  Christ, 
for  Christ  was  his  favorite  theme;  and 
deeper  yet  went  the  sure  arrows  of  con- 
viction which  accompanied  his  words. 
The  house  was  pressed  to  its  utmost  ca- 
pacity, and  the  preacher  seemed  to  sway 
the  hearts  before  him  as  the  heart  of  one 
man.  Could  any  steel  themselves  against 
such  searching  appeals?  He  drew  him- 
self down  to  his  audience  as  though  he 
was  one  of  them ;  could  any  resist? 


THE    CONVEESION.  59 

The  third  night  found  Walter  and 
James  again  there ;  and  this  time,  when 
a  request  was  made  that  those  who  de- 
sired prayers  should  signify  it,  James 
was  the  first  to  go.  Walter  was  sur- 
prised. In  all  his  anxiety  he  had  not 
thought  of  doing  that;  it  would  be  so  pub- 
lic. No,  he  was  going  to  God  by  himself; 
or  if  he  perished,  he  would  perish  alone. 

But  James'  bold  step  startled  him,  and 
he  began  to  consider  what  he  should  do. 
That  night  the  young  soul  of  James  drank 
of  the  waters  which  his  Saviour  gave 
him.  He  had  yielded.  He  laid  himself 
at  the  foot  of  the  cross,  he  accepted 
Christ  for  his  salvation,  and  henceforth 
his  trust  was  in  Him.  The  next  morn- 
ing he  waited  for  Walter  as  usual,  and 
the  light  of  joy  beamed  in  his  eye  as  he 
met  him.  All  fear  of  him  was  gone,  for 
the  Saviour's  love  had  taken  away  the 
fear  of  man. 


60  WALTER   MARTIN. 

"Walter,"  said  he,  "I  am  so  happy." 
Walter  started  as  if  stung  by  some  pierc- 
ing thought. 

"Happy,  happy!"  the  very  words 
jarred  upon  Walter's  ear.  What  was 
happiness  ?  Theij^  was  certainly  no  such 
thing  for  him,  and  he  did  not  reply. 

"Walter,"  continued  James,  "I  have 
found  Jesus.  My  heart  is  so  light,  and 
I  have  such  joy.  Do  n't  you  want  to  find 
him  too?" 

Walter  looked  at  him  earnestly  a  mo- 
ment, and  then  replied,  "Yes,  James,  I 
want  to  find  him,  but  I  can't;  I  know 
not  where  he  is." 

"Why,  he  is  everywhere.  His  love 
fills  every  place.  You  have  only  to  say, 
'Here,  Lord,  I  give  myself  to  thee,'  and 
you  can  find  him  at  once." 

What  a  sudden  change  passed  through 
the  soul  of  the  stiff-necked  boy.  The  ice 
was  broken,  he  had  spoken  his  thoughts, 


THE    CONVEKSION.  61 

and  now  his  pride  broke  down,  and  lie 
poured  the  feelings  of  his  heart  into  the 
ears  of  his  young  friend. 

''You  must  pray,''  said  James. 

"I  do  pray,  but  it  does  no  good." 

"Oh,  it  will  do  good.  God  will  hear 
you ;  he  always  hears.  You  must  ask 
for  the  prayers  of  Christians  to-night." 

''Oh,  I  can't  do  that.  The  boys  at 
home  will  laugh  at  me.  They  think 
there  is  no  need  of  going  to  church." 

"I  thought  you  didn't  care  for  people, 
if  they  do  laugh." 

Alas  for  Walter ;  he  knew  not  what  to 
say.  He  who  had  walked  with  such  a  fear- 
less air,  feared  to  show  himself  among 
those  who  prayed.  The  boaster  had  fall- 
en, he  had  acknowledged  himself  afraid. 

"Where  is  Ellen?"  said  James.  "Why 
do  n't  she  go  to  these  meetings?" 

"She  is  out  of  town  this  winter.  She 
is  teaching." 


62  WALTER  MAETIN. 

**If  she  was  at  home  she  could  help 
you  now,  and  tell  you  what  to  do.'' 

"Yes,"  said  Walter,  "perhaps I  should 
have  told  her  before  this.  She  would 
understand  me." 

"Well,  go  to  meeting  with  me  to-night; 
let  the  world  know  that  you  seek  Jesus, 
and  he  will  come  to  you  just  as  he  has 
come  to  me.  He  will  fill  you  with  joy 
and  peace ;  you  will  see  his  glory,  and 
we  '11  praise  him  together,  both  here  and 
hereafter." 

James  had  taken  Walter's  hand  with  a 
firm  grasp,  and  looked  earnestly  in  his 
face,  till  he  promised  that  he  would  come 
out  publicly  that  evening,  as  an  inquirer 
for  the  true  and  living  way. 

He  did  so,  and  as  Christians  pleaded  in 
his  behalf  at  the  throne  of  grace  his  heart 
throbbed.  He  felt  as  though  bound  with 
a  thousand  chains ;  his  pulse  quickened, 
and  he  said  to  himself,  "I  will  yield.     I 


THE    CONVERSION.  63 

will  give  myself  to  Christ."  Then  his 
will  came  up  again  in  all  its  obstinacy, 
and  said,  "You  can't;  where  is  the  use 
in  trying?  Besides,  how  do  you  know, 
after  all,  that  there  really  is  any  Jesus 
who  hears  you?  Perhaps  it  is  all  a 
farce?" 

.  Near  him  stood  an  elderly  Christian 
woman,  who  had  noticed  the  changes  of 
his  countenance,  and  turning  to  him,  she 
gave  him  such  a  look  as  caused  every 
nerve  of  his  body  to  thrill. 

''I  never  saw  such  a  look,"  said  he 
afterwards  to  a  friend;  ''a  look  of  pain, 
of  anxiety  for  me,  of  yearning  love ;  a 
look  as  from  eternity.  It  revealed  to  me 
the  day  of  judgment ;  it  flashed  into  my 
soul  a  crucified  Saviour,  and  exhibited 
my  sin  in  disobeying  him.  I  saw  that 
she  at^least  believed  without  a  doubt,  and 
my  own  doubts  instantly  fled.  Should  I 
rebel  against  God  ?     Could  I  endure  his 


6i  Y^ALTER  MAETIN. 

wrath  if  I  did?  No.  'Blessed  Jesus/  I 
said,  'take  me  now.  Save  me;  I  rebel 
no  longer.  I  am  thine.  Henceforth  I 
am  thine,  forever  thine.'" 

'' Oh,  Walter,''  said  James,  as  they 
were  walking  home,  "I  knew  when  you 
became  a  Christian." 

"How  did  you  know?"  asked  Walter. 

"By  the  light  of  your  eye  and  the  hap- 
piness shown  in  your  face.  Let  us  bless 
God  together.  Come  in  to  my  room  be- 
fore you  go  home,  and  let  us  thank  God 
together." 

And  there  the  two  new-born  souls  first 
knelt  together  to  praise  Him  who  loved 
them  and  bought  them  with  his  blood. 
How  sweet  are  such  praises  in  heaven. 
We  know  they  are  heard  there,  for  does 
not  the  word  of  God  say,  "There  is  joy 
in  heaven  over  one  sinner  that  i*  pent- 
eth?" 

The  next  morning  Walter  and  James 


THE   CONVEKSION.  65 

were  at  their  places  as  usual,  but  a  new 
light  shone  in  their  faces,  and  they  had 
prayed  that  it  might  shine  in  their  lives. 
Many  of  the  mill  hands  had  attended 
the  meetings,  and  a  close  watch  had 
been  kept  over  all  who  seemed  interest- 
ed. It  was  soon  known  that  James  and 
Walter  were  among  those  hopefully  con- 
verted, and  significant  looks  and  whis- 
pers passed  around  among  their  old  ac- 
quaintances, David  Nealy,  Tom  Hardy, 
Ned  Manson,  and  the  rest.  They  too  had 
attended  the  meetings,  and  been  some- 
what impressed  by  the  services;  but  at 
their  close  each  evening  they  had  gone 
to  their  usual  resort,  Conant's,  and  dissi- 
pated whatever  feeling  they  had,  amid 
strong  drink,  cigars,  and  profanity.  Al- 
ready they  were  learning  to  love  the 
fatal  cup,  and  to  take  a  glass ;  while  the 
fumes  of  strong  drink  and  tobacco  were 
their  especial  delight.     How  fearful  in 


66  WALTEll   MAETIN. 

the  last  great  day  will  be  the  woe  pro- 
nounced on  the  men  whose  vicious  ex- 
ample and  ridicule  of  religion  closed  the 
eyes  and  hearts  of  these  youth  while  the 
Saviour  was  passing  by. 


THE   LAST  FAEEWELL.  61 


CHAPTER  Y. 

THE  LAST  FAEEWELL. 

That  was  a  happy  winter  for  the 
youthful  converts.  Many  besides  Wal- 
ter and  James  had  passed  from  death 
unto  life.  The  voice  of  prayer  and  hymns 
of  praise  were  heard  in  many  rooms,  the 
meetings  were  full  of  young  worshippers, 
and  all  through  the  mill  were  scattered 
joyful  hearts,  triumphing  in  Christ's  love. 

Walter  no  longer  regarded  the  boys 
with  the  pride  he  had  formerly  mani- 
fested; he  spoke  to  them  kindly,  and 
sometimes  walked  with  them,  convers- 
ing so  pleasantly  that  the  hearts  of  some 
began  to  warm  towards  him.  Uncon- 
sciously the  oath  and  the  rough  jest 
were  suppressed  in  his  presence,  and  he 
tried  to  induce  them  to  join  the  Sabbath- 


08  WALTER   MARTIN. 

school.  Thus  lie  honored  his  Master  even 
among  those  who  could  not  understand 
the  change,  and  who  yet  discerned  the 
power  of  Christ  in  their  young  compan- 
ion. Happy  are  those,  young  or  old, 
who  live  so  near  their  Saviour  that  he  is 
reflected  in  all  their  conduct  and  honored 
by  their  daily  life. 

When  the  spring  came,  with  its  chill- 
ing winds,  Walter  noticed  that  James 
did  not  seem  so  strong  as  usual.  There 
was  a  flush  on  his  cheek,  a  short  breath, 
and  a  frequent  cough  that  increased  daily. 

''James,"  said  Walter  one  morning, 
"I  don't  think  you  ought  to  work;  I 
do  n't  believe  you  are  able." 

'*I  do  feel  weak,"  replied  James ;  "but 
you  know  I  have  to  pay  my  board,  and 
if  I  do  n't  keep  busy,  I  shall  fall  behind  ; 
and  I  do  n't  like  to  send  word  to  father ; 
he  cannot  afford  to  keep  me  at  home 
long." 


THE   LAST   FAREWELL.  69 

''Well,  come  up  and  stay  with  me  a 
week.  Mother  will  be  glad  to  have  you, 
I  know,  and  she  will  cure  you." 

''  I  should  like  to,"  said  James,  ''  if  the 
overseer  is  willing." 

Walter  made  haste  home,  and  in  a 
few  minutes  was  back  again  with  his 
mother's  consent.  All  was  readily  ar- 
ranged at  his  boarding-house  and  at  the 
factory,  where  all  pitied  the  gentle  and 
patient  James,  and  were  ready  to  divide 
his  work  among  them. 

That  same  forenoon  James  was  wel- 
comed to  Mrs.  Martin's  hospitable  and 
motherly  care.  Lizzie  brought  pillows 
and  a  warm  spread  for  the  sofa;  and 
as  he  stretched  himself  upon  the  soft 
couch  he  gratefully  said,  "This  is  so  com- 
fortable, I  shall  get  well  soon,  I  am  sure." 

Walter,  at  his  mother's  request,  bought 
some  slippery-elm  to  carry  home  at  noon. 
He  had  great  faith  in  his  mother's  med- 


70  WALTER    MARTIN. 

ical  powers.  "  She  is  better  than  a  doc- 
tor," he  used  to  say. 

'*But  your  mother  can't  save  him," 
said  boss  Wyman,  "nor  the  doctors  either. 
I  have  known  this  good  while,  that  he  was 
going  to  die.  He  is  a  good  boy,  and  I 
hate  to  spare  him.  When  he  first  came 
here  he  did  n't  do  very  well,  but  this 
religion  of  his  brought  him  right  round." 

"So  you  see,"  said  Walter,  "religion 
is  a  good  thing.  Sometimes  you  think  it 
is  worse  than  nothing." 

"Oh,  the  true,  genuine  religion  is  a 
good  thing,  I  suppose ;  but  I  do  n't  think 
much  of  this  'cant,'  that  is  all  talk  and 
no  practice." 

"That  isn't  religion,"  replied  Walter. 

"  Folks  think  it  is,"  said  Wyman,  "  and 
they  '11  pray,  and  pretend  to  be  very 
good,  when  they  are  no  better  than  I  am, 
and  do  n't  try  half  as  hard  to  do  right  as 
I  do." 


THE    LAST   FAREWELL.  71 

''  Trying  to  do  '  about  right '  never  can 
save  us,"  said  Walter;  "Jesus  Christ 
saves  us.  He  died  for  our  sins,  and  we 
must  believe  on  him  as  our  Saviour,  and 
love  and  serve  him." 

"Oh,  I  don't  know  any  thing  about 
that,"  replied  Wyman ;  "somehow  I  can't 
understand  it ;  but  I  am  glad  James  does, 
for  when  a  person  is  going  to  die,  I  sup- 
pose it 's  a  good  thing." 

"  Yes,"  said  Walter,  "  and  it  is  a  good 
thing  to  live  by  too.  It  will  make  you 
happy  every  day." 

Walter  was  saddened  at  the  thought 
that  his  friend  was  going  to  die,  but  he 
rejoiced  that  the  beauty  of  his  every-day 
life  had  borne  testimony  to  the  truth  as 
it  is  in  Jesus  ;  and  he  knew  that  this 
same  loving  Jesus  was  in  heaven,  and 
would  surely  receive  one  who  loved  him 
so  well. 

"It  is  only  passing  through  the  valley 


72  WALTER  MABTIN. 

a  little  sooner  tlian  I  do,  that  is  all," 
tliouglit  he.  ''I  shall  follow  him  when 
my  work  is  clone.  Mav  I  be  as  ready  to 
go  as  he  is.*' 

Three  days  passed,  when  Mrs.  Martin 
said  the}^  had  better  send  for  James' 
father.  His  father  came,  and  the  best 
efforts  were  made  for  his  restoration ; 
but  still  he  faded,  and  at  length  he  was 
wrapped  in  overcoats  and  blankets,  and 
kindly  carried  home. 

''Haye  you  heard  from  Jim  to-day?" 
said  Tom  Hardy  to  Walter,  a  fortnight 
later. 

"Yes,"  replied  Walter,  "I  saw  the 
doctor  this  morning.  He  thinks  he  is 
failing,  and  will  not  liye  many  weeks.  I 
shall  go  out  Saturday  night,  and  stay  all 
night  with  him." 

' '  I  wish  I  could  go, "  said  Tom.  ' •'  May 
I  go  with  you,  Walter  ?" 

"Yes,"    said   Walter,    "I  should  be 


THE    LAST    FAKEWELL.  73 

glad  to  have  you.  We  will  buy  some 
oranges  and  such  things,  and  carry 
out;' 

So  the  reckless  Tom  took  the  Saturday 
night,  which  was  generally  spent  at  the 
tavern,  for  visiting  the  sick  young  Chris- 
tian. It  proved  a  blessed  Saturday  night 
to  the  wayward  3^outh. 

James  was  glad  to  see  them,  and  ex- 
tended his  thin  hand  as  cordially  to  Tom 
as  to  Walter,  though  a  look  of  surprise 
passed  over  his  face  when  he  saw  him. 

James  was  very  feeble,  so  that  it  was 
necessary  some  one  should  sit  up  with 
him  through  the  night.  Walter  imme- 
diately offered  his  services. 

"No,''  said  Tom,  "you  stay  to-mor- 
row, and  sit  up  with  him  to-morrow 
night.  I  must  go  back  in  the  morning, 
and  I  will  take  care  of  him  to-night." 
Then  recollecting  himself,  he  added, 
"Perhaps  you  think  I  can't  take  care 


74  WALTEK   MAETIN. 

of  yoii  well,  I  am  so  rough.  But  I 
can,  and  I  will.  I  will  be  gentle  as  a 
lamb." 

The  two  friends  looked  at  each  other 
for  a  moment,  and  James  replied,  "I 
should  be  glad  to  have  jou,  if  you  are 
willing;." 

When  all  had  retired,  and  thev  were 
left  alone,  Tom  felt  awkwardly.  He 
smoothed  down  the  pillow  and  arranged 
the  clothes,  but  still  did  not  speak.  The 
truth  is,  he  had  come  all  the  way  out 
there  to  confess  to  James,  and  to  ask  his 
forgiveness,  but  he  did  not  know  how  to 
begin.     James  spoke  first. 

"Tom,"  said  he,  ''the  doctor  says  I 
must  die,  and  I  feel  it  too." 

Tom's  firmness  gave  way,  and  tears 
fell  from  his  eyes  as  he  grasped  the  wan 
hand.  "I  know  it,"  said  he;  "will  you, 
can  you  forgive  me  ?" 

"Forgive you! "said  James  J  "forwhat?'^ 


THE    LAST   FAEEWELL.  75 

'For  treating  you  so,  ever  since  we 
had  that  fight."' 

"That  fight/'  said  James  ;  ''why,  I  was 
just  as  much  to  blame  as  you.  How 
wicked  I  was." 

"Not  so  bad  as  I  was,"  replied  Tom. 
"And  how  many  times  I  have  laughed 
at  you  since  about  your  religion." 

"That  was  only  because  you  did  not 
understand  such  things.  Let  me  ask 
you  now  to  become  a  Christian,  and  give 
up  your  wicked  ways." 

Then  followed  a  long  talk,  at  the  close 
of  which  James  gave  Tom  his  Bible,  and 
Tom  promised  to  read  it  faithfully. 

A  month  passed  by,  and  James  was 
yet  alive.  Every  day  his  faith  grew 
stronger,  and  the  light  from  his  dying- 
bed  was  aiding  to  accomplish  that  which 
the  meetings  had  begun  ;  it  was  working 
a  revolution  among  the  men  and  boys  of 
the  spinning-room.    Some  of  them  visited 


76  WALTER   MARTIN. 

him,  carrying  their  little  tokens  of  good- 
will, and  receiving  in  return  his  testi- 
mony of  the  sweet  peace  which  he  found 
in  the  Redeemer,  and  earnest  entreaties 
to  seek  his  love. 

His  serene  state  of  mind  was  a  general 
topic  of  conversation  among  his  friends ; 
and  when  evening  came,  Tom  and  Ned 
were  no  longer  seen  at  the  tavern.  They 
began  to  think  they  too  must  some  time 
die,  and  they  wanted  to  be  prepared. 
Frank  Martin  too,  often  spent  the  hours 
of  the  night  by  the  side  of  the  happy 
sufferer,  each  time  getting  a  clearer  view 
of  the  realities  of  another  world. 

The  last  day  came  at  length,  and  the 
loving  spirit  was  gently  released,  and 
returned  to  God  who  gave  it,  and  to  the 
Saviour  who  redeemed  it. 


LEAVING   THE    MILL.  7t 


CHAPTER  YI. 

FROM  THE  MILL  TO  THE  SCHOOL. 

Surely  and  steadily  the  leaven  of 
reform  was  working  among  the  band  of 
boys  in  the  spinning-room.  The  effect 
of  the  glorious  departure  of  the  young 
Christian  lingered  like  the  departing 
twilight  of  a  radiant  summer's  evening. 
The  boys  were  more  faithful  at  their 
work;  the  men  became  more  lenient; 
there  was  less  profanity,  less  kicking, 
and  less  scolding. 

Tom's  reformation  had  produced  a 
wonderful  influence.  When  he  com- 
menced reading  his  Bible,  and  threw 
the  weight  of  his  strong  will  on  the  side 
which  Walter  defended,  there  was  a 
general  surprise ;  but  though  his  old  inti- 
mates sneered  at  him,  and  though  his 


78  WALTER    MARTIN. 

love  for  liquors  and  cigars  strong!}"  tempt- 
ed liim,  lie  firmly  resisted  every  foe,  both 
inward  and  outward,  read  the  treasured 
Bible,  the  gift  of  the  departed,  and  faith- 
fully kept  the  promise  made  in  the  still 
hours  of  that  long -remembered  night. 
Xed  and  David  too  gradually  changed, 
under  the  strong  influence  of  Tom  and 
his  urgent  appeals. 

Thus  a  year  escaped  into  the  past. 
"Walter  had  grown  to  be  quite  a  tall  boy, 
and  had  been  promoted  from  back-boy 
to  become  himself  a  spinner,  in  charge  of 
a  mule.  And  then  came  other  changes, 
to  Walter  agreeable,  and  important  in 
their  results. 

There  was  a  depression  in  the  times, 
mercantile  houses  failing,  money  hard  to 
be  obtained,  and  the  manufacturing  com- 
pany decided  to  suppress  a  part  of  their 
works.  A  portion  of  the  mill  was  to  re 
main  unused,  and  consequently  many  of 


LEAVING   THE    MILL.  19 

the  operatives  must  be  dismissed  from 
employment. 

"I  suppose/'  said  Mr.  Fiske  to  Frank 
Martin  one  morning,  ''that  we  shall  stop 
about  half  the  mules  in  our  room,  and 
one  or  two  in  the  lower  spinning-room. 
It  is  hard  to  say  who  must  leave  ;  the  men 
will  hardly  know  how  to  find  employ- 
ment, and  I  dislike  to  say  who  shall  go." 

"I  heard  Walter  say  he  hoped  you 
would  send  him  away,"  replied  Frank. 

"  Ah,  why  does  he  want  to  go  ?" 

"He  wants  to  go  to  school;  and  he 
says  father  will  never  be  willing  as  long 
as  he  can  have  work  to  do  here.  Father 
likes  to  see  us  all  earning." 

"Very  well,"  said  Mr.  Fiske,  "let 
Walter  be  one  to  go  then." 

Presently  Harry  Martin  came  running 
up  the  stairs  from  the  lower  spinning- 
room,  where  he  had  so  quietly •  worked 
hitherto. 


80  WALTER    MARTIN. 

''Mr.  Fiske,"  said  he,  "I  understand 
there  is  to  be  a  mule  stopped  in  our 
room." 

"Yes,"'  said  Mr.  Fiske,  ''I  suppose 
there  must  be." 

"Well,  I  have  come  up  to  ask  you  if 
I  might  be  the  one  excused?" 

"Why,  I  have  just  excused  Walter. 
Do  YOU  want  to  go  to  school  too?" 

"No,  sir,  I  want  to  go  to  New  York, 
where  my  brother  is.  I  have  wanted  to 
go  for  a  long  time,  and  this  is  just  the  sea- 
son to  suit  me.  Up  in  the  Saranac  region 
where  he  is,  there  is  plenty  of  game,  and 
splendid  fish,  and  big  forests.  He  is  tak- 
ing deer  now  all  the  time,  and  I  must  go." 

"Yery  well  then,"  said  Mr.  Fiske; 
"you  are  a  prime  workman,  Harry,  and 
I  should  like  to  keep  you ;  but  it  is  bet- 
ter to  send  away  those  who  want  to  go 
than  those  who  do  not,  so  you  can  go." 

Mr.  Martin  was  in  great  consternation 


LEAVING  THE  MILL.  81 

when  it  was  announced  to  liim  at  the  din- 
ner-table that  Walter  and  Harry  had. 
both  left  the  mill. 

''I  don't  know  how  we  shall  get 
along, "  said  he,  ' '  if  you  all  do  so.  Times 
are  hard,  and  you  can't  find  so  profitable 
employment  anywhere  else." 

''I  do  n't  want  employment,"  said  Wal- 
ter, ' '  I  want  to  go  to  school ;  and  the  old 
mill  is  in  trouble.  I  am  glad  I  can  get 
away.  If  the  work  had  not  stopped  I 
should  never  have  dared  to  ask  to  be 
excused." 

"If  yoi:  go  to  school  a  while,"  said 
Mr.  Martin,  ''what  then?" 

''I  do  not  know  what  then,"  replied 
Walter;  ''we  will  see  if  I  know  any 
thing  first. '^ 

"I  think  he  had  better  go  to  school," 
said  his  mother;  "he  has  wanted  to  go 
for  a  long  time." 

"Well,"  replied  Mr.  Martin,  "I  sup- 

W.  Martin.  Q 


82  WALTER  MARTIN. 

pose  lie  must  then.  But  what  are  you 
going  to  do,  Harry?'' 

'*  Why,  sir,  I  think  I  '11  go  up  to  the 
Saranac  region.  They  are  bagging  the 
game  there,  and  sending  it  down  the 
Hudson  rapidly." 

''Oh,  Harry,"  said  his  father,  "it  is 
bad  enough  to  have  one  son  off  there  in 
the  woods.  I  do  n't  want  another  there. 
I  want  my  boys  to  stay  with  me." 

''  I  do  n't  know  but  he  had  better  go," 
said  Mrs.  Martin.  "I  have  many  anx- 
ious days  and  nights  about  our  lonely  one 
there,  and  if  Harry  is  with  him  they  can 
be  company  for  each  other,  and  take  care 
of  each  other  if  they  are  sick." 

Mr.  Martin  yielded;  and  then  Nat, 
who  was  almost  eighteen,  put  in  his  plea 
for  a  few  months'  visit  to  the  Saranac 
with  his  brother.  This  too  was  allowed, 
and  only  Frank  and  Herbert  were  left  to 
follow  the  routine  of  the  mill. 


LEAVING   THE    MILL.  83 

Wajter  felt  like  a  new  being.  The  bur- 
den of  an  uncongenial  mode  of  labor  was 
removed  from  his  shoulders,  and  his  spir- 
its rebounded  with  an  elasticity  he  had 
never  felt  before.  He  collected  his  books 
together,  and  kneeling  in  his  chamber, 
thanked  God  for  opening  to  him  this  op- 
portunity of  improving  his  mind,  and 
prayed  that  he  might  have  grace  and 
strength  to  improve  it  aright,  and  might 
become  an  honor  to  his  Saviour  and  a 
blessing  to  the  world. 

Walter  hardly  knew  where  to  place 
himself,  or  what  rank  he  could  take  in 
school.  His  studies  had  always  been  so 
much  by  himself,  that  he  felt  a  diffidence 
about  comparing  himself  with  those  of 
more  favored  opportunities.  He  expect- 
ed to  be  far  behind  them,  but  determined 
to  exert  himself  and  keep  as  near  them 
as  possible. 

He  was  agreeably  surprised  therefore 


84  WALTER   MARTIN. 

when  the  teacher,  after  a  brief  examina- 
tion, assigned  him  to  the  first  English 
class  in  his  school.  He  feared  Mr.  Train 
was  mistaken,  and  had  placed  him  too 
high. 

"I  have  never  been  in  school  much, 
sir,"  said  he;  *'I  am  afraid  that  is  too  high 
for  me.'^ 

"You  have  studied  by  yourself,  you 
told  me." 

"  Yes,  sir,"  said  "Walter,  ''  I  have  had 
no  teacher." 

''But  you  have  been  a  thorough  stu- 
dent. In  whatever  branch  I  have  ques- 
tioned you,  I  find  you  have  a  perfect  un- 
derstanding. I  should  advise  you  to 
commence  on  Latin.  You  have  not 
studied  the  language,  you  say  ?" 

"  If  you  please,  sir,"  said  Walter,  ''  I 
should  prefer  a  term  under  you  in  the 
common  'branches  first.  I  should  like 
your  instructions  in  English  grammar, 


LEAVING  THE   MILL.  85 

and  such  branches  as  are  pursued  in  dis- 
trict schools.  If  I  can  become  fitted  for 
it,  I  should  like  to  teach.'' 

''  As  you  please/'  said  Mr.  Train.  ''  I 
have  no  doubt  but  you  are  as  well  fitted 
to  teach  now  as  half  our  teachers;  and 
half  of  the  other  half,"  he  added,  smiling. 

Walter  seized  upon  his  studies  with 
avidity.  As  the  parched  earth  absorbs 
the  falling  rain,  his  thirsty  mind  drank 
in  the  instructions  of  his  teacher. 

''I  never  saw  any  thing  like  it,"  re- 
marked he;  ''  if  he  should  teach  with  the 
same  avidity  that  he  studies,  he  would 
be  the  best  teacher  in  town." 

This  remark,  was  made  in  the  hearing 
of  a  gentleman  who,  a  few  days  after,  was 
in  a  district  three  miles  out  from  the  vil- 
lage where  they  were  wanting  a  teacher. 

"Our  means  are  not  large,"  observed 
Mr.  Brown,  one  of  the  committee;  "we 
cannot  afford  the  highest  price  for  one  of 


86  WALTEPw    MAETIN. 

the  first  »teacliers,  and  yet  we  want  a 
good  one." 

The  gentleman  told  him  of  the  remark 
which  Mr.  Train  had  made  with  regard 
to  Walter  Martin. 

''  Walter  Martin,"  replied  Mr.  Brown ; 
*' I  know  him  very  well.  He  is  a  fine 
little  fellow,  but  I  didn't  know  he  was 
qualified  to  teach." 

"  It  seems  he  has  qualified  himself," 
replied  the  gentleman.  "Mr.  Train 
places  him  in  the  front  rank  of  his  Eng- 
lish scholars,  and  is  anxious  he  should 
have  a  school,  to  prevent  his  going  back 
into  the  mill." 

''I  tell  you,  wife,"  said  Mr.  Brown, 
"he  is  just  the  one  for  us.  He  can  board 
in  our  family.  I  *11  ride  out  and  see  him 
this  evening.  Don't  you  want  to  go  and 
call  upon  Mrs.  Martin?" 

"Yes,  I  have  been  wishing  all  day 
that  you  would  invite  me  to  ride." 


LEAVING   THE    MILL.  Si 

That  evening  the  agreement  was  com- 
pleted, and  Walter  was  so  moderate  in 
his  price,  that  it  was  found  they  could 
have  four  months  of  school,  which  sent 
•  Mr.  Brown  home  in  high  spirits.  He  lost 
no  time  in  communicating  to  his  neigh- 
bors the  rare  bargain  he  had  made,  and 
the  long  school  they  would  have ;  being 
careful  to  add  that  he  boarded  the  teach- 
er a  little  under  price,  which  would  also 
help  to  lengthen  the  term. 

Walter  sought  his  pillow  that  evening 
with  new  feelings  in  his  heart.  He  had 
wanted  a  school,  but  now  that  it  had 
come  he  almost  shrank  from  the  under- 
taking. 

''I  am  so  young,"  he  thought,  "will 
the  scholars  fear  and  respect  me?'^ 

Then  he  remembered  the  Saviour  who 
had  so  often  been  his  refuge,  and  kneel- 
ing before  him  he  thanked  him  for  giv- 
ing him  this  school,  and  prayed  for  assist- 


88  WALTEK   MAKTIN. 

ance  and  a  blessing  in  the  discharge  of 
its  duties. 

The  fall  term  of  the  academy  closed 
the  week  previous  to  the  annual  Thanks- 
giving. Nat  had  just  returned  from  his 
Saranac  tour,  and  Ellen  came  home,  so 
that  all  but  two  gathered  round  the 
Thanksgiving  board. 

The  Monday  after  Thanksgiving,  Wal- 
ter entered  upon  his  new  scene  of  labor. 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Brown  gave  him  a  cordial 
welcome,  and  in  the  school-room  he  was 
greeted  with  smiling  eyes  from  the  youth 
of  the  district,  who  were  already  in  their 
seats,  awaiting  him.  He  opened  the 
school  with  prayer,  and  soon  found  him- 
self quite  at  ease. 

He  had  his  own  ideas  of  teaching,  de- 
rived perhaps  from  studying  so  much 
by  himself.  He  determined  that  what- 
ever he  taught  should  be  thoroughly 
taught,  and  he  threw  into  his  school  so 


LEAVING   THE    MILL.  89 

mucli  zeal  and  earnestness  of  purpose, 
that  the  scholars,  catching  his  spirit,  stud- 
ied and  learned  as  they  had  never  done 
before. 

"You  are  doing  wonders  in  our  school,'^ 
said  a  farmer  to  him  one  day.  "My 
children  never  learned  so  before.  What 
do  you  do  to  them  ?" 

"  Come  in  some  day,  and  see,"  replied 
Walter. 

"I  will,"  said  he,  pleased  with  the  in- 
vitation ;  and  soon  the  scholars  were  sur- 
prised to  see  the  farmer  and  his  wife 
walk  into  the  school.  The  invitation 
was  extended  to  others  so  cordially  that 
they  could  not  refuse  ;  and  one  after  an- 
other, the  staid  farmers  found  their  way 
to  the  school,  where  everybody  was  so 
wide  awake.  The  fame  of  these  things 
reached  the  village. 

"You  are  succeeding  finely,  I  hear," 
said  Mr.  Train,  as  Walter  called  upon 


90  WALTER  MAETIN. 

him  one  Saturday  evening.  * '  How  is  it 
you  do  it?'' 

''I  hardly  know,  myself,"  replied  Wal- 
ter, ''except that  I  feel  so  much  interest- 
ed in  my  school,  that  I  interest  my  pu- 
pils. I  have  tried  to  teach  them  self- 
respect,  and  that  it  is  of  the  utmost  im- 
portance that  they  not  only  learn  their 
lessons,  but  learn  them  thoroughly ;  and 
that  they  strive  to  become  useful  in  the 
world,  and  to  be  noble  men  and  women, 
remembering  that  they  are  accountable 
to  God." 

"You  have  struck* the  right  chord," 
said  Mr.  Train;  "it  is  far  better  than 
scolding  and  whipping.  May  Grod  give 
you  grace  to  persevere." 

"Thank  you,"  replied  Walter.  "I 
called  to  ask  you  to  lend  me  your 
physiological  charts;  I  have  promised 
my  first  class  some  lectures  on  physiol- 
ogy.'' 


LEAVING   THE    MILL.  91 

"Certainly/'  said  Mr.  Train,  "I  am 
happy  to  lend  them." 

Walter  thanked  him,  and  hastened 
home  to  his  mother. 

"Mother,"  said  he,  "  are  not  the  weeks 
long  without  me  ?" 

"They  would  be,  my  son,  only  T 
know  you  are  happy  in  your  occupa- 
tion ;  and  what  is  your  happiness  is 
mine.  I  hear  that  you  are  succeeding 
finely,"  said  she,  "  and  I  am  very  happy 
to  know  it." 

"  I  have  tried  to  do  well,  mother. 
God  opened  the  way  for  me,  and  I  ought 
to  do  all  I  can." 

At  the  annual  town-meeting,  a  brief 
notice  of  each  school  was  usually  read 
in  presence  of  the  assembled  voters  of 
the  town.  Walter  was  anxious  to  know 
what  was  said  of  his  school,  and  he 
crowded  in  among  the  men,  that  he 
might  distinctly  understand  the  reader. 


02  WALTER   MARTIN. 

He  found  that  his  school  was  ranked  as 
the  second  in  town. 

"Only  one  teacher  better  than  I  am, 
and  he  an  experienced  teacher,"  said 
Walter  to  his  mother,  in  reporting  to 
her  what  he  had  heard.  "Now  I  can 
easily  get  a  school  another  winter." 

"I  am  very  glad,"  she  replied,  "both 
for  your  sake  and  m}^  own." 


THE    CHASTENING.  93 


CHAPTER   YII. 

THE   CHASTENING. 

Walter  had  now  earned  enough  to 
keep  him  at  the  academy  until  another 
winter,  and  the  consent  of  his  father  and 
mother  was  easily  obtained  to  this  plan. 
Both  were  pleased  with  his  success,  and 
were  anxious  he  should  have  all  the  ad- 
vantages they  could  secure  for  him.  His 
teacher,  and  others  who  had  become  in- 
terested in  him,  advised  him  to  prepare 
for  a  college  course. 

He  was  in  doubt  respecting  this  plan. 
It  seemed  to  him  a  great  undertaking, 
with  no  available  resources  except  win- 
ter teaching.  He  must  have  clothes  and 
books ;  even  his  preparatory  studies 
could  not  be  completed  in  his  own  vil- 
lage, and  if  he  went  away  there  would 


94  WALTER   MAETIN. 

be  the  expenses  of  his  board  in  addition. 
He  could  not  see  how  he  could  even  pre- 
pare for  college,  or  how  go  through  it  if 
he  was  prepared. 

Mr.  Train  advised  him  not  to  look  for- 
ward so  far  as  that,  but  to  commence, 
and  God  would  open  a  way  for  him  in 
his  providence.  He  accordingly  enter- 
ed upon  the  study  of  Latin  and  the 
higher  mathematics,  and  so  continued 
through  the  season,  until  another  winter 
approached. 

There  was  another  subject  upon  which 
he  had  not  yet  decided,  and  which  troub- 
led his  mind  with  a  continual  anxiety. 
He  had  not  yet  made  a  public  profession 
of  religion.  He  was  anxious  to  form  an 
opinion  upon  the  respective  merits  of 
the  several  denominations ;  and  he  read 
various  authors,  examined  articles  of 
faith,  and  studied  inquiringly  into  the 
differences   which   separated  the   many 


THE    CHASTENING.  95 

churches.  But  the  more  he  examined, 
the  more  puzzled  he  became.  The  pastor 
upon  whose  Diinistrations  he  attended, 
conversed  with  him  on  the  subject.  He 
advised  him  to  put  away  every  theologi- 
cal book  but  one,  and  that  the  Bible. 
"Read  that,"  said  he,  "and  that  alone. 
It  is  simple  in  all  the  ideas  necessary  for 
our  lives  here,  and  presents  the  great 
truths  fresh  from  the  Creator.  Above 
all,  pray.  Pray  for  enlightening  wis- 
dom, pray  for  the  Holy  Spirit,  which 
will  guide  you  into  all  truth.'' 

Walter  followed  his  pastor's  advice; 
and  Grod,  who  saw  his  struggles,  led  him 
into  paths  of  light  and  peace. 

In  another  part  of  the  town  there  was 
a  small  but  beautiful  village,  containing 
a  school-house,  a  few  dwellings,  one  or 
i:wo  stores,  and  a  church.  The  citizens 
went  to  the  main  village  to  vote ;  and  here 
in   town-meeting   they  had   listened  to 


96  WALTER   MARTIN\ 

the  annual  report  of  the  schools,  and  the 
high  commendation  of  young  Walter,  and 
it  was  agreed  among  them  to  seek  his 
services  for  the  ensuing  winter  in  their 
school.  It  was  an  excellent  situation, 
much  superior  to  the  one  he  had  occu- 
pied the  previous  year ;  the  offer  of  it 
was  pleasing  to  him,  and  was  at  once 
accepted. 

There  were  yet  three  months  before 
the  school  was  to  open,  and  the  earnest 
student  renewed  his  zeal  and  study,  giv- 
ing special  attention  to  algebra,  geome- 
try, and  trigonometry.  Meantime  he 
loved  the  house  of  God,  interested  him- 
self in  the  Sabbath-school,  and  had  a 
ready  word  of  kindness  and  counsel  for 
every  one  in  trouble  ;  but  like  the  weary 
dove,  he  as  yet  found  no  rest  for  the  sole 
of  his  foot  in  the  church  of  Christ.  He 
wanted  a  home  with  the  people  of  God ; 
but  where? 


THE    CHASTENING.  91 

In  the  midst  of  these  occupations  he 
was  brought  to  a  sudden  pause.  In  the 
chamber  of  feverish  agony  lay  his  dar- 
ling brother  Frank,  the  first-born  of  the 
sons. 

Every  heart  was  hushed,  and  every  la- 
bor suspended,  while  the  band  of  broth- 
ers united  in  care  for  the  sick.  But 
the  fearful  day  came,  the  last  day,  and 
tlie  twilight  of  an  autumnal  eve  threw  its 
dreary  shadows  into  the  room,  where, 
amid  the  assembled  family  and  friends, 
the  sufferer  lay,  with  his  head  upon  his 
mother's  shoulder.  The  eyes  of  the  dy- 
ing young  man  glowed  with  unwonted 
brightness,  when,  meeting  the  gaze  of  his 
brother  Kat,  he  said, 

''Xat,  this  is  a  hard  spot,  the  hardest 
in  which  a  man  can  be."  Then  looking 
wistfully  np  to  his  mother,  she  replied 
with  the  words, 


9S  WALTER  MAETIN. 

"  Jesus  can  make  a  dying  bed 
Feel  soft  as  downy  pillows  are, 
While  on  his  breast  I  lean  my  head, 
And  breathe  my  life  out  sweetly  there." 

He  bowed  his  head  in  assent  to  the 
truth  of  the  precious  verse,  and  was 
gone,  for  ever  gone. 

There  was  sadness  in  the  hearts  of  the 
stricken  family.  This  was  the  first  death 
in  the  cemented  circle.  After-break- 
ages might  follow,  but  they  would  touch 
a  fractured  ring,  tremulous  with  the  lin- 
gering vibrations  of  the  first  shock. 

The  young  teacher  returned  to  his 
school  with  new  views  of  life.  Death  had 
come  very  near  to  him,  and  at  its  call 
he  renewedly  consecrated  himself  to  God, 
praying  for  grace  to  live  the  good  man's 
life,  that  he  might  die  the  good  man's 
death. 

He  found  in  his  school  plenty  of  labor 
to  occupy  his  time,  and  break  up  any 


THE    CHASTENING.  99 

lethargy  which  might  steal  over  him. 
There  were  a  large  number  of  pupils, 
many  of  them  quite  advanced  in  their 
studies ;  and  he  was  obliged  to  be  active 
and  industrious,  that  they  might  be  prop- 
erly instructed  in  the  variety  of  branches 
pursued.  Thus  he  was  compelled  to 
banish  the  inertia  consequent  upon  his 
late  bereavement,  and  resume  the  elas- 
ticity so  necessary  to  success. 

"The  selection  of  my  boarding-place 
must  have  been  by  a  higher  power,"  he 
remarked  to  a  friend  visiting  his  school, 
"for  my  especial  benefit.  My  host  is 
'a  host  in  himself,^  and  I  find  myself 
strengthening  and  improving  daily  under 
his  care.     He  is  just  the  guide  I  needed." 

"You  must  be  spending  a  pleasant 
winter  then,"  replied  his  friend,  "for  I 
see  your  school  is  very  agreeable.  I  am 
glad  of  your  success." 

When  Walter  returned  to  tea,  his  wel- 


100  WALTEK   MAETIN. 

come  was  cordial.  Mr.  Cliilcls,  who  was 
the  pastor,  had  completed  his  prepara- 
tion for  the  next  Sabbath,  and  was  just 
in  the  mood  for  an  evening's  chat. 

"So,  YOU  have  finished  another  day's 
work,"  he  remarked,  as  Walter  entered 
the  sitting-room.  "So  have  I.  I  have 
been  pressing  on  to-day,  to  be  ready  for 
the  Sabbath;  and  I  think  this  evening 
you  and  I  will  spend  with  the  ladies. 

"Thank  you,"'  said  Walter;  "I  shall 
be  happy  to  do  so." 

"Yes;  I  knew  you  would.  It  is  not 
well  for  you  to  shut  yourself  up  in  your 
room  all  these  evenings,  poring  over  your 
books.  It  will  make  you  morbid ;  and  a 
man  with  'the  blues'  cannot  live  as  a 
Christian  should." 

"I  see,"  said  Walter,  "you  do  not 
believe  in  a  dull  and  gloomy  Christi- 
anity." 

"Indeed  I  do  not,"  replied  he  warmly. 


THE   CHASTENING.  101 

"Christ  did  not  come  into  the  world  to 
make  us  desponding  and  sad.  He  came 
to  make  us  happy ;  and  how  can  we  be 
happy  unless  we  are  cheerful?  When 
we  realize  the  bounties  of  our  heavenly 
Father's  bestowing  in  this  life,  and  con- 
sider that  beyond  it  we  have  the  promise 
of  eternal  life,  how  can  we  be  otherwise 
than  joyful?  I  think  you  told  me  you 
learned  to  love  Jesus  long  ago,  but  have 
not  yet  united  yourself  to  his  church.'' 

"Yes,  sir,''  replied  Walter,  "that  is 
the  case.  There  are  some  points  which 
I  am  unable  to  decide,  and  I'm  waiting 
to  see  more  clearly." 

"Don't  wait  too  long  for  that,  my 
young  friend.  You  must  not  stay  out  in 
the  cold,  freezing  your  heart  for  the  want 
of  Christian  sympathy.  Decide  upon 
something,  and  get  where  you  can  feel  at 
home.  It  will  do  you  good.  As  a  man 
is  happier  for  a  loving  home  in  this  world, 


102  WALTER   MAETIX. 

SO  a  Christian  is  happier  to  have  a  lov- 
ing home  in  the  bosom  of  Christ's  church. 
It  is  the  command  of  our  Saviour.  One 
of  his  last  acts  was  the  institution  of  the 
Lord's  supper ;  and  he  who  neglects  this, 
neglects  one  of  his  greatest  earthly  priv- 
ileges." 

"I  am  aware  of  it,"  replied  Walter; 
"but  there  are  conflicting  views  held  by 
the  different  churches,  between  which  I 
am  unable  to  decide." 

"This  is  probably  the  result  of  your 
early  education,"  said  Mr.  Childs.  "Not 
having  been  accustomed  to  attend  a 
church  regularly  in  your  early  days,  you 
have  not  learned  to  love  one  more  than 
another.  But  I  hear  the  tea-bell.  The 
ladies  are  expecting  us,  and  after  tea  we 
will  have  some  music." 

Mr.  Childs  led  the  way  to  the  tea- 
table,  followed  by  the  young  teacher ;  and 
as  his  genial  smile  shed  its  lustre  over  the 


THE    CHASTENING.  103 

bountiful  board,  and  his  voice  invoked 
the  blessing  of  the  Most  High  upon  the 
food  before  them,  Walter  felt  how  beau- 
tiful were  the  Christian  virtues,  when  dis- 
played in  the  every-day  duties  of  life. 

"Besides  claiming  you  for  this  even- 
ing," said  Mr.  Childs  as  he  filled  Wal- 
ter's "iDlate,  "I  must  speak  for  you  to-mor- 
row, as  I  believe  you  have  no  school.  I 
want  to  take  you  round  among  the  peo- 
ple.*' 

"Thank  you,"  said  Walter;  "but  I 
suppose  my  mother  will  expect  me  home 
to-morrow." 

"Ah,  well,  you  ought  to  go  home,  to 
be  sure,  for  your  mother's  sake.  But 
we'll  make  a  few  calls  first,  and  then 
Willie  shall  take  the  pony  and  drive  you 
out  home,  if  you  please." 

Walter  accepted  the  proposal,  and 
found  his  heart  growing  warm  and  cheer- 
ful, in  social  contact  with  the  generous, 


104  WALTER  MAETIN. 

open-hearted,  hospitable  home  scenes  by 
which  he  was  surronnclecl. 

''Now,  Ada,"  said  Mr.  Childs  to  his 
daughter,  "we  hope  you  will  furnish  us 
some  music.  Our  young  friend  here  will 
supply  the  tenor,  Miss  Abigail,"  nodding 
to  the  sister  of  his  wife,  "will  give  the 
soprano,  and  I  think  I  can  add  a  little 
bass." 

The  piano  was  rich  in  its  tones,  the 
music  selected  of  a  choice  character,  and 
Walter  enjoyed  an  hour  or  two  of  min- 
gled conversation  and  music  with  a  keen 
zest. 

"These  evenings  are  my  recreation," 
said  Mr.  Childs.  ' '  They  give  me  a  pleas- 
ant relief  when  I  am  wearied  with  the 
labors  of  my  calling." 

Thus  the  wise  pastor  sought  to  dispel 
the  morbid  gloom  of  the  young  teach- 
er, and  to  prepare  him  for  a  candid 
and  healthful  examination  of  the  truths 


THE    CHASTENING.  105 

which  he  did  not  fail  carefully  to  incul- 
cate. 

Before  spring  Walter  had  united  him- 
self to  the  visible  church  of  Christ;  and 
soon  found,  in  his  growing  love  for  the 
people  of  his  choice,  that  minor  differ- 
ences of  opinion  vanished  before  the 
warm  sun  of  Christ's  love. 

At  the  next  annual  town-meeting, 
Walter  had  the  happiness  of  hearing  his 
school  ranked  first  on  the  list. 

''I  am  truly  thankful  for  your  suc- 
cess," said  his  mother,  when  he  had  re- 
peated to  her  the  encomiums  bestowed 
upon  his  school  by  the  committee.  "It 
is  from  the  same  wise  source  from  which 
comes  down  every  good  and  perfect 
gift.''   * 


106  WALTEE   MARTIN. 


CHAPTER  YIII, 

PEOGEESS. 


Walter  seemed  now  to  be  fairly  on 
the  course  lie  had  so  long  desired  to 
traverse.  He  had  been  successful  in 
teaching,  and  his  heart  warmed  with 
love  for  the  work. 

"There  can  be  no  higher  privilege," 
he  said,  "than  to  lead  young  immortal 
minds  in  the  ways  of  knowledge  and  vir- 
tue. They  love  to  learn;  all  children 
love  to  learn,  if  the  instructions  are  made 
interesting  to  them.  If  the  teacher  is  ear- 
nest and  zealous,  the  pupils  catch  the  spir- 
it, and  will  follow  wherever  they  af  e  led." 

The  pastor  of  his  church  urged  upon 
him  the  importance  of  preparing  for  the 
ministry ;  but  he  could  not  feel  confident 
that  he  had  a  call  to  the  work. 


PROGRESS.  107 

*'It  is  a  noble,  a  holy  work,"  said  lie, 
''but  I  cannot  feel  sure  that  God  has 
called  me  to  it.  Indeed  I  do  not  yet 
see  clearly  to  what  he  has  called  me. 
I  have  succeeded  as  a  teacher.  I  love 
the  business,  and  as  I  consider  it  a 
work  requiring  careful  preparation  and 
constant  advance,  perhaps  I  may  per- 
sonally be  as  much  profited  in  that  as 
in  any  thing ;  and  I  may  also  be  as  use- 
ful." 

•'It  is  certainly  a  useful  occupation," 
replied  the  pastor,  "but  to  stand  as  a 
watchman  on  the  walls  of  Zion,  is  an 
honor  and  a  privilege  far  above  price. 
It  is  not  without  its  trials,  but  the  ser- 
vant of  God  must  expect  trials.  I  ad- 
vise you  to  make  it  a  subject  of  prayer, 
and  if  you  decide  upon  the  ministry,  I 
will  assist  you  in  a  collegiate  and  pre- 
paratory course.  There  is  a  fund  for 
this  purpose,  which  I  am  enabled  par- 


108  WALTER   MAKTIN. 

tiallv  to  control,  and  which  I  can  obtain 
for  your  benefit.'' 

Walter  thanked  him,  and  promised  to 
consider  the  matter.  He  felt  grateful 
for  the  high  regard  his  pastor  had  ex- 
pressed for  him,  but  he  could  not  feel 
quite  at  liberty  to  accept  the  offer. 

''Perhaps  there  is  no  better  way  for 
obtaining  a  finished  education,''  said  his 
mother.  "A  life  spent  in  the  ministry 
certainly  can  be  useful." 

"True,"  he  replied,  "but  I  do  not  feel 
sure  that  I  have  a  call  to  the  ministry. 
It  would  be  wrong  for  me  to  accept  these 
terms,  unless  I  can  fulfil  the  obligations 
they  impose  upon  me.  I  do  feel  as  though 
there  was  a  work  for  me  to  do  some- 
where, but  I  cannot  see  what  it  is.  I 
think  I  had  better  continue  in  my  pres- 
ent course  till  light  dawns  upon  me. 
We  cannot  find  other  duties  by  desert- 
ing the  present  ones  which  surround  us; 


PEOGKESS.  109 

but  if  we  are  faithful  at  our  posts,  our 
course  will  be  made  clear  to  us.  I  hope 
I  am  growing  spiritually  stronger  every 
day." 

''TV;ell,"  replied  Mrs.  Martin,  "you 
ought  to  be  your  own  judge.  It  is  not 
the  college  that  makes  the  man,  I  know, 
and  you  must  follow  your  own  desires." 

''I  think,  mother,  that  Providence  will 
open  a  way  for  me  to  do  whatever  he  has 
assigned  as  my  portion  in  the  life  that 
now  is." 

He  was  strongly  urged  by  others  to 
prepare  for  a  college  course.  It  seemed 
to  them  that  his  natural  abilities,  and  his 
devotion  to  study,  both  warranted  and 
required  that  he  should  use  the  best 
advantages  his  country  could  bestov/, 
whether  he  afterwards  entered  on  the 
ministry  or  some  other  profession.  But 
he  replied: 

"I  believe  I  shall  follow  the  guidance 


110  WALTER   MAETIN. 

of  events,  rather  than  attempt  to  fashion 
them.  If  there  is  a  work  for  me  to  do, 
my  Father  will  make  it  manifest  to  me. 
I  am  inclined  to  the  belief  that  my 
province  is  teaching.  To  lead  yonng 
minds  in  the  way  of  knowledge,  to 
guide  3^oung  feet  in  the  paths  of  virtue 
and  truth,  not  forgetting  to  point  them 
to  Jesus,  is  a  great  work,  if  truly  fol- 
lowed." 

Walter  continued  his  studies  this  sea- 
son with  the  same  assiduity  which  had 
characterized  the  previous  years,  grow- 
ing in  grace,  and  in  the  "nurture  and 
admonition  of  the  Lord."  Greek  was 
now  added  to  his  other  branches,  and  he 
finally  concluded  to  follow  the  counsel  of 
so  many  friends,  and  prepare  for  col- 
lege. Mr.  Train  was  pleased  with  his 
decision,  and  used  his  best  efforts  for  his 
advancement. 

Early  in  the  autumn  he  received  a  call 


PEOGRESS.  Ill 

from  bis  friends  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Childs, 
who  found  him  deeply  absorbed  in  study, 
and  playfully  reproached  him  for  neg- 
lecting to  visit  them.  Before  leaving, 
Mr.  Childs  said  to  him,  "I  have  been 
deputed  by  our  district,  unanimously,  to 
request  you  to  teach  our  school  again  the 
coming  winter.  And  Mrs.  Childs  re- 
quests your  company  in  our  family 
again." 

*'I  shall  be  very  happy  to  accept  both 
offers,"  replied  Walter.  "I  could  not 
l^lease  myself  better  in  any  situation." 

"We  are  happy  to  hear  you  say  so," 
said  Mrs.  Childs;  "the  children  are 
much  attached  to  you,  and  we  are  pleas- 
ed with  your  good  influence  over  them." 

After  they  were  gone,  Walter  went  to 
his  room,  and  knelt  in  thankfulness  for 
his  many  blessings,  for  kind  and  loving 
friends,  and  for  a  heart  to  do  God's  will ; 
and  then  he  prayed  for  guidance  in  his 


112  WALTER   MARTIN. 

vocation,  and  that  he  might  be  permitted 
to  lead  the  young  minds  of  his  charge  to 
a  love  for  Jesus,  and  to  a  desire  for  use- 
fulness in  the  world.  A  trusting  seren- 
ity stole  into  his  mind ;  and  he  felt 
strengthened  for  a  renewal  of  his  labors, 
by  the  assurance  that  the  heavenly  Shep- 
herd was  leading  him  gently  up  the  steep 
acclivities  of  life. 

The  autumn  wore  away,  his  school  re- 
commenced under  prospering  circum- 
stances, and  he  applied  himself  with  un- 
usual assiduity,  that  he  might  sustain  the 
reputation  he  had  previously  won. 

During  this  season  a  second  blow  fell 
upon  the  mourning  family  of  Mr.  Martin. 
Harry,  prostrated  by  a  falling  tree  in 
the  forests  of  the  Saranac,  was  brought 
home  a  lifeless  form,  to  be  laid  beside  his 
brother  Frank.  The  half-healed  wound 
of  one  year  ago  was  opened  afresh.  The 
mother  became  mute  with  intense  grief, 


PROGRESS.  113 

and  the  remaining  brothers  seemed  to  say, 
as  they  gazed  upon  each  other,  ''Which  of 
us  will  be  summoned  next?'' 

How  deep  were  the  lessons  which 
the  young  teacher  garnered  from  these 
repeated  blows  of  an  unseen  Providence. 
Life  in  this  world,  which  might  end  at 
any  moment,  assumed  a  new  importance. 
Every  day  given  him  seemed  a  treasure, 
a  blank  for  him  to  fill  with  duties,  which 
must  be  immediately  performed,  lest 
there  come  the  relentless  severing  of  the 
great  messenger  Death. 

"Mother,"  said  he,  "our  circle  nar- 
rows, and  we  who  are  left  must  draw 
more  closely  around  you,  and  support 
you  with  our  love.'' 

"We  must  endeavor  to  sustain  her,'' 
he  said  to  his  brothers  and  sisters,  "  un- 
der these  bereavements,  as  far  as  possi- 
ble. What  should  we  do  without  her? 
She  is  one  of  the  best  of  mothers." 


lU  WALTER  MARTIN. 

This  was  Walter's  increasing  sense  of 
his  duty.  His  father  and  his  mother 
must  be  cherished  and  loved ;  and  every 
day  he  was  conscious  of  an  increasing 
regard  for  their  happiness. 

His  success  in  his  school  was  equal  to 
that  in  either  of  the  preceding  terms,  and 
he  now  began  to  realize  the  substantial 
benefits  of  a  well-earned  reputation.  He 
felt  a  security  in  his  position,  and  con- 
tinued for  two  years  more  in  the  same 
routine  of  studying  and  teaching.  He 
improved  steadily  and  surely,  and  now 
began  to  think  seriously  of  entering  col- 
lege. He  thought  if  he  could  obtain  one 
or  two  terms  of  more  advanced  instruc- 
tion than  his  own  town  afforded,  his 
preparations  would  be  quite  satisfac- 
tory, for  in  mathematics  he  had  gone 
beyond  the  requirements  for  entering  a 
college  course. 

The  last  few  months  of  the  second  year 


PEOGEESS.  115 

brought  additional  changes  in  his  loved 
home.  The  gay  Herbert  had  yielded  to 
the  ravages  of  disease,  and  had  gone  to 
his  rest,  with  a  happy  trust  in  his  Sav- 
iour, and  a  sweet  consciousness  of  'his 
never-failing  presence.  It  was  almost 
difficult  to  mourn  for  one  who  seemed 
so  joyful  in  the  near  presence  of  the 
happy  land,  and  who  left  so  sure  a  testi- 
mony of  the  blessedness  of  the  Chris- 
tian's trust. 

Ere  long  Walter's  brother  I^at  felt  the 
weakness  of  disease  stealing  over  him, 
and  lest  he  too  should  fall  a  victim,  he 
obtained  his  parents'  ready  consent  that 
he  should  seek  the  far  plains  of  Minne- 
sota, if  haply  in  that  region  of  pure  air 
he  might  regain  his  strength,  and  be 
spared  a  little  longer.  Ellen  and  Lizzie 
had  gone  to  homes  of  their  own  choosing ; 
so  that  Walter  and  his  mother  were  left 
alone  in  their  own  home  to  sustain  the 


116  WALTER   MARTIN. 

sinking  father,  and  keep  alive  the  em- 
bers of  the  household  fire.  It  ^Yas  a 
great  change  for  the  ambitious  young 
man,  but  a  change  which  taught  him 
patience,  and  developed  a  self-abandon- 
ment more  noble  than  mere  learning 
could  give  him. 

"I  had  intended,"  said  he  to  a  friend 
who  called  upon  him,  "to  have  been 
away  at  school  now ;  but  I  read  to  my 
mother  such  books  as  are  interesting  to 
her,  and  remain  with  her  as  much  as 
possible,  to  comfort  her,  and  assist  her 
in  the  care  of  my  father." 

''It  is  a  very  sudden  bereavement  for 
your  mother,  and  for  you  all,  to  lose  so 
many  in  so  brief  a  time,''  replied  his 
friend;  ''and  it  seems  but  right  that  you 
should  remain  at  home  ;  but  you  must 
not  despair.  I  am  sorry  to  see  your 
progress  so  suddenly  interrupted." 

"It  is  all  for  the  best,"  replied  Wal- 


PEOGRESS.  in 

ter;  "discipline  will  strengthen  me,  and 
I  am  sure  I  need  strengthening." 

A  knock  was  heard  at  the  door,  and 
Walter  admitted  his  valued  friend  Mr. 
Childs. 

''Ah,  my  young  friend,"  said  the  gen- 
erous man,  shaking  him  heartily  by  the 
hand,  ''how  do  you  do  to-day?  I  have 
come  from  home  on  purpose  to  see  you. 
You  are  again  in  the  deep  waters  of 
affliction,  I  hear." 

"Yes,  sir;  our  home  has  become  very 
much  changed.  I  alone  am  left  to  my 
mother,  for  my  father  is  quite  broken 
and  helpless." 

"I  am  sorry  to  hear  it;  very  sorry. 
It  breaks  in  upon  your  prospects  and 
plans  with  a  sudden  chill.  I  hope  you 
will  not  despond." 

"No,  sir,  I  think  I  do  not.  It  hardly 
seems  right  to  think  of  myself,  in  these 
bereavements  of  mv  father  aod  mother. 


118  WALTER   MAETIN. 

One  by  one  their  cliilclren  have  departed, 
until  they  are  almost  like  the  branches 
of  a  leafless  tree." 

"Now  no  chastening  for  the  present 
seemeth  joyous,  but  grievous ;  never- 
theless, afterwards  it  yieldeth  the  peace- 
able fruit  of  righteousness,"  said  the 
kind  man.  "Come  home  with  me,  and 
stay  a  day  or  two.  Mrs.  Childs  and 
Willie  have  sent  an  urgent  request  for 
you." 

' '  Thank  you, "  said  Walter  j  ' '  nothing 
could  give  me  greater  pleasure.  But  it 
would  not  be  right  for  me  to  leave  moth- 
er alone,  even  for  a  day.  Father  is  so 
helpless,  it  is  my  duty  to  remain  with 
her." 

"Well,"  said  Mr.  Childs,  "I  never  saw 
a  cloud  so  dark  but  it  broke  away  in 
time.  The  night  may  linger,  but  the 
dawn  will  surely  come.  Put  your  trust 
on  high.     Keep  up  your  courage;  and  if 


PROGKESS.  119 

you  can't  come  to  me,  I  will  come  and 
see  you  again  ere  long." 

The  cordial  words  of  a  friend  so  rich  in 
faith  exerted  a  quickening  influence  over 
Walter's  energies,  and  he  began  gradu- 
ally to  look  again  for  his  books,  and 
to  study  by  himself  during  the  weeks 
that  followed ;  and  soon  the  promised 
dawn  of  the  morning  glimmered  on  the 
horizon.  A  letter  came  from  Lizzie,  a 
welcome  letter,  having  every  margin  and 
corner  filled. 

Lizzie  wrote  that  her  husband  was 
about  to  change  his  business,  and  that  it 
was  her  earnest  desire  to  come  back  to 
her  own  home.  Her  husband  had  ex- 
pressed his  willingness  to  come,  and  they 
only  awaited  mother's  consent. 

"Mother,"  said  Walter,  "it  is  one  of 
God's  providences.  It  is  a  golden  drop 
among  us.  Lizzie  will  be  such  a  comfort 
to  you." 


120  WALTER  MAETIN. 

"It  is  indeed  a  blessing,''  said  Mrs. 
Martin,  "  an  unexpected  blessing.  Xow 
you  can  be  released  and  go  to  your 
school,  without  that  anxious  care  for  me 
which  you  otherwise  would  have  had." 

"I  was  not  thinking  of  that,  mother; 
I  was  thinking  how  happy  you  would  be, 
how  much  Lizzie  could  do  for^you  that  I 
cannot  do,  and  how  the  patter  of  little 
Eddie's  feet  would  occupy  your  atten- 
tion ;  and  how  beautifully  you  and  father 
are  provided  for." 

So  the  unselfish  mother  thought  only 
of  the  happiness  of  her  son,  and  the  duti- 
ful son  considered  the  blessings  which 
would  accrue  to  his  mother. 

Preparations  were  immediately  made 
for  the  reception  of  the  loved  ones,  Wal- 
ter interesting  himself  with  his  mother  in 
all  the  domestic  arrangements,  until  the 
glad  day  of  the  arrival  came,  bringing  to 
the  home  a  renewed  animation  and  life. 


PEOOEESS.  121 

"Mother,"  said  Walter,  coming  into 
the  house  a  few  clays  after  Lizzie's  arri- 
val, "I  thought  I  could  not  leave  you  to 
teach  this  winter,  and  have  refused  all 
offers  that  would  take  me  away ;  but  to- 
day I  have  been  requested  to  teach  in 
our  village,  where  I  can  board  at  home. 
How  is  it,  Lizzie,  do  you  want  to  board 
the  schoolmaster  this  winter?" 
"That  depends  upon  who  it  is." 
"Suppose  it  is  the  gentleman  present?" 
"I  should  be  happy  to  keep  him  in 
the  family,"  said  she. 

"Behold  how  the  Lord  provideth," 
added  Mrs.  Martin,  for  affliction  had  un- 
sealed her  lips,  and  she  no  longer  hesi- 
tated to  speak  the  thoughts  of  her  heart. 
Affliction  also  had  given  Walter  a  faith 
he  would  never  have  learned  in  contin- 
ued prosperity. 


122  WALTEE  MAETIN. 


CHAPTER  IX. 

THE  ENLISTMENT. 

A  WEEK  of  his  school  had  passed  away, 
and  the  interest  he  felt  in  his  classes,  and 
in  the  well-being  of  the  young  charge 
committed  to  his  care,  roused  again  his 
energies,  and  restored  his  natural  im- 
pulse for  books. 

'*I  have  got  my  school  established," 
said  he,  "the  classes  are  all  in  work- 
ing order,  and  I  must  study  evenings. 
1 11  borrow  a  nook  here  by  the  side  of 
your  evening  lamp,  if  you  please,  Liz- 
zie, and  try  some  more  of  those  prob- 
lems." 

' '  Certainly, "  said  she ;  ' '  but  I  am  afraid 
you  will  be  a  dull  companion.  I  shall 
want  to  talk." 

''If  you  must  have  a  noise  then,"  said 


THE   ENLISTMENT.  123 

he,  "suppose  that  I  read  to  you,  in  some- 
thing interesting.  Here  is  a  Life  of 
"Washington,  and  here  is  the  best  of  all 
books,  the  Bible. '^ 

"Thank  you,"  said  she,  "you  can 
make  your  own  selection,  if  you  will 
only  read  something.  When  I  have  seen 
that  father  is  comfortable,  mother  and  I 
will  be  ready  to  listen." 

"The  programme  for  the  evenings  this 
winter,"  said  Walter,  "unless  we  are  in- 
terrupted by  callers,  must  be  reading  and 
study." 

"I  have  been  thinking,"  said  Mrs.  Mar- 
tin, "  that  if  I  have  Lizzie  and  the  good 
son  she  has  brought  me,  to  help  and  care 
for  me,  and  little  Eddie  to  cheer  me, 
you  need  not  remain  at  home  after  3^our 
school  closes.  You  can  go  to  school  if 
you  wish,  as  you  was  intending  to  do 
last  year.". 

"I  should  like  to  go,  mother,  if  you 


124  WALTER  MARTIN. 

think  you  will  not  be  lonely  without  me. 
There  is  a  club  of  young  men  forming 
to  go  from  here.  They  are  to  board 
themselves,  in  order  to  reduce  expenses, 
and  I  should  like  to  join  them.  It  is 
only  twenty  miles  to  the  school  by  the 
railroad,  so  that  I  shall  not  be  far 
away.  I  am  sure  that  with  a  full  course 
of  preparatory  study  I  can  be  more  use- 
ful to  the  world,  in  some  way,  than  with- 
out it.  I  have  not  yet  visited  Mr.  Childs, 
as  he  requested  me.  I  think  I  will  go 
and  take  tea  with  him  Saturday." 

"I  think  you  had  better,"  said  Mrs. 
Martin  ;  "he  is  a  kind  friend  and  a  good 
adviser." 

Saturday  soon  came,  and  Walter  found 
himself  once  more  in  the  cheerful  family 
circle  of  his  hospitable  friend.  The  chil- 
dren collected  around  him,  and  Mrs. 
Childs  greeted  him  with  her  kindest 
welcome. 


THE   ENLISTMENT.  125 

''I  wish,"  said  Willie,  "you  were 
teaching  our  school  again  this  winter,  as 
you  used  to." 

"So  do  I,"  said  Mr.  Childs,  "but  he 
is  needed  at  home.  He  is  a  great  com- 
fort there." 

"I  remember,"  said  Willie,  "when 
Jack  Dooley  wanted  to  read  a  newspa- 
per in  school." 

"  Do  you?"  said  Walter.  "Jack  did  n't 
like  me  very  well  that  day." 

"No,"  said  Willie ;  "but  he  liked  you 
after  that,  and  he  likes  you  now  better 
than  any  other  teacher." 

"I  did  not  punish  him." 

"No  ;  you  just  looked  him  steadily 
in  the  eye  till  he  yielded,  and  handed 
you  the  paper.  But  he  was  such  a  big, 
stout  fellow,  we  were  all  frightened ;  for 
we  thought  you  could  not  punish  him, 
and  that  he  would  not  obey  unless  he 
was  punished." 


126  WALTEE  MAETIX. 

''What  do  you  suppose  I  was  think- 
ing, while  I  was  looking  at  him?" 

"I  don't  know,"  said  Willie;  ''what 
were  you?" 

"At  first  I  thought,  'You  are  a  great, 
strong  boy,  stronger  than  I  am ;  if  I  at- 
tempt to  punish  you  and  you  resist,  I 
shall  get  into  trouble ;  if  I  give  up  with- 
out trying,  my  authority  over  you  is 
lost :  and  then  I  lifted  my  heart  to  Grod 
for  guidance  and  assistance  in  the  hour 
of  my  helplessness,  and  help  came.  Jack 
and  I  became  the  best  of  friends  after 
that." 

"I  know  it,"  said  Willie;  "I  could 
not  understand  that  at  all." 

"I  will  tell  you,"  said  Walter.  "I 
watched  my  opportunity,  and  had  some 
private  talks  with  him.  I  spoke  to  his 
heart;  told  him  for  what  life  was  given 
us ;  spoke  of  Jesus,  of  our  need  of  salva- 
tion through  his  name,  of  the  eternal  fu- 


THE   ENLISTMENT.  12t 

ture,  and  what  is  required  of  us  in  tliis 
present  life.  Your  father  has  told  you 
all  these  things  from  your  infancy,  Wil- 
lie ;  but  Jack  had  known  very  little  of 
them.'^ 

''Perhaps  that  is  what  has  improved 
him  so  much,"  said  Willie;  "he  is  quite 
a  different  boy  from  what  he  used  to 
be." 

* '  I  think  Willie  and  I  must  become  his 
friends,"  said  Mr.  Childs,  "if  that  is  the 
case.  I  have  always  regarded  him  as  a 
kind  of  vagabond,  who  couldn't  be  im- 
proved." 

"You  couldn't  do  a  greater  deed  of 
charity  than  to  help  him  along  a  little," 
replied  Walter. 

"We  never  had  a  teacher  that  won 
the  hearts  of  the  children  as  you  did," 
observed  Mrs.  Childs. 

"Perhaps  you  never  had  one  who 
tried   as   much   to  win    them,"   replied 


128  WALTER   MAllTIN. 

Walter.  ''The  hearts  of  the  children 
was  what  I  wanted.  Then  I  was  sure  of 
success,  and  possessed  the  ke}^  by  which 
I  could  wind  and  unwind  them  at  my 
pleasure.  I  always  aimed  to  teach  them 
self-respect,  and  praised  them  when  there 
was  a  chance  for  it.  There  is  no  use  in 
constantly  chiding  children,  and  depreci- 
ating their  efforts.  When  they  have  re- 
ally tried  to  do  right,  the  teacher  should 
commend  them.  We  all  like  to  be  praised, 
and  children  are  but  miniature  men  and 
women.  They  should  be  interested  too 
in  something  aside  from  their  regular 
lessons.  They  get  tired  of  dull  monot- 
ony." 

After  some  more  pleasant  conversation 
about  school  matters,  Mr.  Childs  asked 
Walter,  "What  shall  you  do  when  your 
present  term  closes?-' 

"I  think,  sir,  that  I  shall  join  a  club 
of  young  men  who  are  going  to  the  old 


THE    ENLISTMENT.  129 

standing  academy  twenty  miles  above 
here,  at  Fairdale." 

"That  is  a  good  plan.  Do  so,  by  all 
means.  If  Willie  was  old  enough,  I 
would  send  him  with  you.  I  hope  you 
will  be  in  college  ere  long." 

"Thank  you,  sir,"  said  Walter,  "for 
your  kind  wishes.  I  also  hope  I  may 
be." 

Walter's  visit  was  a  great  benefit  to 
his  depressed  spirits,  invigorating  him 
for  renewed  exertions,  and  restoring  in 
a  measure  his  wonted  energies.  His 
term  of  teaching  glided  swiftly  to  its 
close,  and  a  few  weeks  afterwards  he 
was  busily  at  work  in  the  academy. 
Several  of  the  young  men  of  the  club 
were  his  acquaintances,  the  others  soon 
formed  intimacies,  and  they  became  a 
very  harmonious  club. 

The  academy  had  been  long  establish- 
ed, was  admirably  provided  with  teach- 


130  WALTEE  MAKTIN. 

ers,  and  "Walter  found  himself  advancing 
rapidly.  He  continued  there  through 
the  season,  with  the  exception  of  the 
summer  vacation,  which  he  improved  by 
remaining  at  home  and  gladdening  the 
heart  of  his  mother.  Her  happiness  was 
his  highest  wish,  her  comfort  his  con- 
stant care.  The  increasing  feebleness  of 
his  father  caused  a  double  anxiety,  lest 
his  mother  too  should  be  prostrated  by 
sorrow  and  care. 

"Let  me  do  all  I  can  for  you,"  he 
would  say  to  her.  ''It  belongs  to  me 
now  to  be  your  burden-bearer.  God  has 
laid  it  upon  me,  and  I  have  no  desire  to 
do  otherwise." 

Ah,  how  little  does  man  know  his  own 
heart,  or  understand  his  own  future! 
Young  men  living  in  ease  and  serenity, 
and  looking  forward  with  high  hopes  to 
the  future  ;  and  old  men  boasting  of  their 
country,  and  trusting  in  its  great  strength : 


THE    ENLISTMENT.  131 

such  vfere  the  men  of  our  nation  in  the 
autumn  before  the  terrible  rebellion  broke 
out,  which  made  such  sudden  and  fear- 
ful changes. 

When  Walter  assumed  to  be  the  bur- 
den-bearer of  his  mother,  he  had  no  pre- 
monition that  another  work  would  claim 
his  attention,  or  that  he  possibly  could 
consider  another  duty  paramount  to  the 
one  now  so  high  in  his  estimation. 

Through  the  presidential  campaign  he 
had  watched  with  great  interest  the  prog- 
ress of  the  public  mind ;  laughing  with  oth- 
ers at  the  threats  of  secession,  and  believ- 
ing they  were  mere  bravado.  When  the 
voting  time  came,  he  went  home  with  all 
the  eagerness  of  patriotic  youth  to  exer- 
cise the  great  prerogative  of  freemen  at 
the  ballot-box.  He  cast  in  his  vote,  and 
returned  immediately  to  school. 

But  ere  long  the  storm  burst  forth. 
The  war-cloud  gathered  blackness,  and 


132  WALTEE   MAETIN. 

Spread  over  a  larger  and  still  larger  ter- 
ritory. The  whole  country  was  aroused 
and  alarmed,  and  when  government  call- 
ed for  an  army  of  seventy-live  thousand 
men,  to  sustain  and  enforce  its  authority, 
a  new  sense  awoke  in  millions  of  minds 
that  we  had  something  to  defend  that 
was  worth  all  the  sacrifices  it  might  re- 
quire, however  great. 

Walter  watched,  and  listened,  and 
thought.  Mother,  books,  every  thing 
but  country  lost  their  wonted  ascendency 
in  his  heart.  "What  do  I  here?'^  said 
he.  ''Why  do  I  wait?  Is  my  blood 
better  than  the  blood  of  my  compatriots, 
that  I  should  guard  it  with  a  jealous 
care?  Books!  education!  of  what  avail 
is  all  that  to  me,  Avith  a  country  shatter- 
ed and  ruined  by  treason?"  He  piled 
away  his  books,  and  took  the  cars  for 
home. 

''My  son,"  said  the  startled  mother, 


THE    ENLISTMENT.  Ig^ 

"what  has  brought  you  home  so  soon? 
You  must  be  ill.'' 

"Why,  mother,  this  horrid  war.  It  is 
not  right  that  I  should  be  at  school. 
Our  country  needs  me ;  will  you  let  me 
go?'' 

It  was  a  most  trying  question.  What 
wonder  that  the  oft-bereaved  mother  re- 
plied, 

"Walter,  it  is  true. our  country  needs 
men;  but  there  are  so  many  ready  to 
go,  that  I  cannot  think  you  are  needed. 
No,  I  cannot  spare  you.  I  have  hoped 
so  much  from  you.  You  are  all  I  have 
of  my  long  line  of  boys." 

"I  know  it,  mother,  I  know  'tis  very 
hard;  but  if  our  country  is  not  saved, 
you  do  not  want  a  son.  I  am  well  and 
strong.  I  look  at  my  arms,  my  feet,  and 
my  hands,  and  I  see  they  are  as  well 
fitted  for  duty  as  other  men's.  I  am 
ashamed  to  walk  the  streets  and  see  my 


134  WALTER   MARTIN. 

friends  who  have  enlisted,  and  I  yet  lin- 
gering here;" 

But  when  he  saw  how  unconvinced 
and  distressed  she  was,  his  conscience 
smote  him.  He  thought  perhaps  his 
duty  was  at  home ;  it  could  not  lie  in  two 
directions  at  the  same  time.  Then  he 
saw  his  father,  nervous  and  pale,  and  de- 
cided to  postpone  enlisting,  for  the  pres- 
ent at  least. 

He  went  into  the  shed,  and  finding 
there  a  quantity  of  wood  not  yet  sawed, 
he  said  to  himself,  "Now  that  I  am  here, 
I  will  stay  at  home  two  or  three  days, 
and  saw  and  pile  this  wood.  It  will 
seem  natural  to  mother  to  have  me 
around  at  work,  and  compensate  per- 
haps for  -the  anxiety  I  have  caused  her ; 
besides,  the  exercise  will  be  beneficial 
to  my  health.  Then  I  will  go  back  to 
school." 

The  mother  was  comforted,  and  Wal- 


THE    ENLISTMENT.  135 

ter  sawed  on,  sometimes  cheerfully,  some- 
times dreamily  pausing  over  tlie  work  as 
he  thoitght  of  his  country. 

Two  days  passed  away,  and  he  had 
become  quite  calm,  when  he  went  out 
into  the  village  to  call  upon  some  friends 
and  get  the  papers. 

Everybody  was  excited,  the  papers 
were  full  of  enthusiasm,  and  a  large  com- 
pany was  already  formed  in  the  town. 
"Only  for  three  months,"  said  they. 
"Come,  Walter,  join  us.  It  is  the  duty 
of  every  man.  Watson  will  be  our  cap- 
tain, and  he  is  the  very  best  man  in  the 
town." 

Walter  knew  that  was  true.  A  better 
man  could  not  be  found,  and  some  of  the 
first  young  men  in  the  village  had  al- 
ready enlisted.  He  returned  home  with 
his  ardor  kindled  anew,  read  the  stirring 
news  in  the  papers,  and  went  to  his  bed, 
but  not  to  sleep.    The  fire  burned  within 


136  WALTEE   MARTIN. 

him.  "Mother  and  Lizzie  are  certainly 
mistaken,"  he  said;  ''they  do  not  under- 
stand the  country's  peril.  My  duty  tow- 
ards my  mother  is  to  fight  for  her  and 
her  home." 

He  had  decided ;  and  when  breakfast 
was  oyer,  he  said,  ''Mother,  I  am  going 
out  to  put  my  name  under  Captain  Wa,t- 


son." 


She  looked  at  him  calml}^,  and  replied, 
"I  have  said  all  that  I  can,  Walter.  Go, 
if  you  feel  that  you  must." 

He  accepted  her  answer,  and  went  out. 
An  hour  after,  he  returned;  the  deed 
was  done.     He  had  enlisted. 


THE    CAMP.  137 


CHAPTER  X. 

THE   CAMP. 

We  have  seen  Walter  in  the  factory, 
a  steadfast  witness  for  Jesus ;  we  have 
seen  him  in  school,  training  young  minds 
to  virtue  and  true  self-respect ;  we  have 
had  a  glimpse  of  him  in  the  filial  duties 
of  home ;  and  we  turn  to  him  now  in  the 
camp. 

Mrs.  Martin  gave  him  no  word  of  re- 
proach ;  she  knew  it  was  a  sense  of  duty 
that  had  taken  him  from  her.  She  ask-* 
ed  when  the  company  would  leave  town, 
and  he  replied,*  "In  three  days.''  Si- 
lently she  went  about  the  necessary  prep- 
arations. Not  a  murmur,  not  a  censure 
escaped  her ;  but  the  compressed  lips  and 
downcast  eyes  spoke  the  struggles  of  the 
heart  more  plainly  than  words,  and  her 


138  WALTER   MAETIN. 

silent  manner  was  more  dreadful  to  Wal- 
ter than  open  rebuke.  He  doubted  more 
and  more  wlietlier  he  had  done  right, 
and  was  tortured  between  the  two  ideas, 
the  grief  of  his  parents  and  the  calls 
of  his  country.  In  imagination  he  saw 
his  mother  droop  and  die,  and  he  trem- 
bled lest  he  should  indeed  be  the  cause 
of  such  an  event.  He  found  no  rest 
from  these  thoughts  day  or  night. 

But  if  his  mother  did  not  reproach 
him,  Lizzie  did.  She  told  him  plainly 
that  he  had  done  wrong,  and  that  the 
mother's  silent  agony  was  more  alarming 
than  noisy  grief.  But  what  could  be  done? 
There  stood  his  name  written  with  his 
own  hand,  and  he  could*  not  retract. 

Captain  Watson  himself  called  to  see 
Mrs.  Martin.  He  represented  to  her  the 
great  need  of  patriotism,  reminded  her 
that  it  was  but  for  three  months  they 
enlisted,  told  her  how  much  he  respect- 


THE    CAMP.  139 

eel  Walter,  aucl  how  much  the  army 
would  need  the  influence  of  young  men 
like  him — that  he  undoubtedly  would 
rise  to  the  officers'  ranks ;  and  finally  re- 
quested her  to  become  the  'comforter  of 
his  own  wife  and  two  little  girls,  whom 
he  must  confide  to  the  care  of  friends 
left  behind. 

This  call  was  appreciated  by  the  be- 
reaved mother,  who  especially  rested  on 
the  idea  of  the  short  term  of  enlistment, 
and  whose  thoughts  also  went  out  to  the 
bereaved  wife  and  children  of  the  cap- 
tain, and  to  the  numerous  other  mothers 
parting  like  herself  from  loved  sons. 

Three  busy,  anxious  days  sped  over 
the  village,  then  the  company  assembled 
with  music  and  a  flag,  and  called  at  the 
captain's  door,  where  they  found  a  colla- 
tion provided  for  them ;  after  which, 
marching  through  the  streets,  they  bade 
farewell  to  thQ  scenes  of  home  and  all 


140  WALTEE   MAETIN. 

they  loved  on  earth.  To  Mrs.  Martin 
the  martial  music  was  like  a  funeral 
knell,  though  troops  of  boys  threw  up 
their  caps  and  seemed  to  think  it  far 
otherwise. 

When  twilight  shadowed  the  green 
vales,  captain  and  men  were  far  away, 
and  praying  hearts  at  home  were 
breathing  forth  the  earnest  cry  to  God 
that  he  would  guard  them  and  save 
them. 

The  moraing  sun  shone  upon  Walter 
in  a  new  situation.  The  camp  where  the 
regiment  was  to  await  the  uniforms  pro- 
vided by  the  state,  consisted  of  tents 
hastily  arranged,  where  the  nev,^  compa- 
nies congregated  as  they  arrived.  What 
a  bustle  1  what  a  confusion !  Walter  half 
opened  his  eyes,  bewildered  by  the  unac- 
customed situation,  when  the  beat  of  the 
morning  drum  brought  him  to  immedi- 
ate consciousness.     He  bounded  to  his 


THE   CAMP.  141 

feet  in  an  instant,  while  a  new  thrill  of 
patriotism  ran  through  his  veins. 

"Halloo  here!"  said  he,  shaking  up  a 
drowsy  companion;  *'  on  duty,  sir.  Do  n't 
you  hear  the  '  roll  of  the  drum,  and  the 
trumpet  that  speaks  of  fame  ?'  '^ 

As  his  comrades  aroused  themselves 
and  began  to  converse,  a  shocking  oath 
greeted  his  ear,  and  he  started  as  though 
stung  by  some  venomous  insect.  He 
looked  around  for  some  secret  place  for 
morning  devotions,  but  there  was  no 
retirement  there;  so  breathing  a  silent 
prayer,  he  entered  upon  the  duties  of 
the  day.  He  liked  the  drill  and  the  mil- 
itary parade,  and  felt  the  great  throb- 
bings  of  a  new  manhood  within  him,  a 
more  earnest  desire  to  serve  his  coun- 
try, and  a  willingness  to  give  his  life  for 
her  cause. 

''What  do  you  think  of  camp  life?'^ 
asked  Captain  Watson  a  few  days  after. 


142  WALTER   MARTIN. 

"I  should  like  it  pretty  well,"  replied 
"Walter,  "if  I  had  a  few  more  congenial 
companions.  The  men  are  pretty  rough, 
more  so  than  I  imagined  they  would  be." 

''Yes,"  replied  the  captain,  ''they feel 
unrestrained,  and  some  whom  I  thought 
pretty  fair  young  men  at  home,  seem 
rather  wild  here;  but  they  will  grow  so- 
ber again ;  they  are  made  of  good  mate- 
rial, and  will  be  great  fighters.  You 
must  consider  that  your  standard  of  moral 
character  is  high." 

"They  seem  very  little  prepared  to 
fall  in  battle,"  said  Walter. 

"Yery  true,"  replied  the  captain ;  "but 
we  have  got  an  excellent  chaplain  ap- 
pointed for  us,  and  I  hope  much  from  his 
influence." 

When  a  week  had  passed  away,  Wal- 
ter found  himself  quite  at  home  in  his 
new  position.  Two  of  his  old  factory 
companions,  Tom  Hardy  and  Ned  Man- 


THE    CAMP.  143 

son,  were  in  his  company;  and  here  too 
he  found  Jack  Dooley,  his  refractory 
scholar ;  and  he  was  rejoiced  to  see  what 
excellent  young  men  they  had  become. 
Tom  was  an  earnest  Christian,  and  be- 
came a  fellow-laborer  with  Walter  in 
seeking  the  best  interests  of  the  men. 

The  Christian,  if  true  to  his  heavenly 
calling,  can  readily  be  distinguished  in  a 
company  of  the  thoughtless ;  and  though, 
in  the  sunshine  of  prosperity,  they  may 
laugh  at  him,  he  becomes  their  refuge  in 
times  of  trouble  and  sorrow.  So  Walter 
soon  found  himself  the  great  reliance  of 
many  of  the  young  soldiers  when  per- 
plexed by  difficulties. 

''Why  don't  you  smoke,  corporal ?'' 
said  a  young  man  to  Walter,  who  had 
just  been  appointed  to  that  station. 

''I  never  had  a  fancy  for  it,"  replied 
Walter. 

"You  must  learn  now  then,"   replied 


144  WALTEK  MAETIN. 

the  soldier ;  ''when  a  fellow  is  away  from 
home  so,  a  good  cigar  is  a  real  com- 
fort.'' 

"It  would  be  a  discomfort  to  me,"  said 
Walter;  ''besides,  I  think  it  is  a  bad 
habit,  and  should  not  be  willing  to  try  it. 
It  would  be  better  for  you  to  leave  it  off. 
It  would  be  better  for  your  pocket,  and 
better  for  your  morals." 

"Ho,  my  morals  are  well  enough.  I 
do  n't  drink ;  and  only  take  a  cigar  now 
and  then." 

"It  may  lead  to  other  things  which 
are  bad,"  replied  Walter.  "Suppose 
you  try  to  break  the  habit.  I  find  no 
necessity  for  it,  and  it  will  increase  upon 
you  perhaps.  Take  the  money  and  buy 
books,  they  will  be  better  than  cigars 
when  you  are  lonely." 

"Perhaps  you  are  right,"  replied  the 
young  man ;  "I  should  like  some  books, 
that's  a  fact.      I  believe  I'll  try  that 


THE    CAMP.  145 

plan.  My  motlier  and  sisters  were  al- 
ways opposed  to  my  smoking." 

"Well,"  said  Walter,  "write  to  them 
your  new  resolution ;  and  they  will  be  so 
pleased  you  will  not  regret  the  self-de- 
nial." 

The  change  of  diet,  though  acceptable 
to  Walter,  was  not  relished  by  many  of 
the  men,  who  were,  fresh  from  the  boun- 
tiful tables  of  their  homes. 

"The  beef  grows  tougher  and  the 
bread  harder  everyday,"  one  of  the  men 
said  at  dinner  one  day.  "I  say,  we  can't 
stand  this.  If  Uncle  Sam  employs  us,  he 
must  give  us  better  living  than  this." 

"They've  got  good  beef  here,"  said 
another,  "I  know;  I've  seen  it,  and  we 
ought  to  have  it.'^ 

Some  oaths  were  uttered  that  seemed 
terrible  to  Walter's  ears,  though  he  had 
been  hearing  profanity  every  day  of  his 
camp  life. 

W.  Martin.  10 


146  WALTER  MARTIN. 

''Do  n't  swear,"  said  he,  ''do  n't  swear, 
and  I  '11  get  some  better  beef  for  you  to- 
morrow. When  we  get  down  among  the 
rebels,  I  suppose  we  must  eat  such  as 
we  can  get ;  but  it  seems  hard  here.  We 
haven't  got  toughened  yet.  But  if  you 
wont  swear,  I  '11  get  some  beef  for  you  to- 


morrow." 


"Well,  produce  the  beef,"  said  one, 
"and  I  wont  swear  again  for  a  week." 

After  dinner  he  went  out  to  find  the 
man  who  dealt  out  the  beef. 

"Sir,"  said  he,  stepping  up  to  him 
quickly  and  assuming  a  stern  counte- 
nance, "sir,  haven't  you  any  better  beef 
than  that  we  had  to-day?  It  wasn't  fit 
for  the  dogs  to  eat." 

The  old  man  looked  up  at  him  with 
astonishment.  He  was  surprised  at  the 
indignant  flash  of  Walter's  eyes. 

"Why,  corporal,"  said  he,  "are  you 
angry?     I  thought  you  was  a  Christian." 


THE   CAMP.  147 

"So  I  am,"  replied  Walter;  ''but  I 
am  a  civilized  Christian,  and  I  cannot  eat 
such  beef  as  that  was.  It  would  raise 
the  indignation  of  any  Christian  to  see 
men  trying  to  eat  such  a  dinner  as  our 
men  tried  to  eat  to-day.  If  it  is  n't  bet- 
ter to-morrow,  I  shall  report  you  to  higher 
authority." 

The  next  day  the  beef  was  good,  and 
the  men  were  warm  in  their  thanks. 

"I  do  not  want  any  thanks,"  said 
Walter;  "only  keep  your  promise,  and 
not  swear." 

It  was  pretty  hard  for  unrestrained 
men  to  keep  such  a  promise  as  that ;  but 
they  tried  so  earnestly,  that  there  was 
much  less  profanity  in  their  tent;  for 
when  the  promised  week  was  ended,  none 
seemed  ready  to  fall  back  to  their  old 
habits. 

But  tobacco  and  profanity  were  not  so 
destructive  as  the  arch-enemy  intemper- 


148  WALTEB   MARTIN. 

ance.  Whiskey  was  a  more  formidable 
opponent  than  any  other  which  Walter 
had  to  enconnter. 

It  was  fearfnl  to  the  young  Christian 
to  see  men  around  him  deprived  of  their 
reason,  brutal  and  insensible  through  the 
influence  of  this  terrible  scourge.  He 
saw  too  that  some  of  the  officers  were  no 
better  than  the  men,  and  wondered  how 
they  were  to  guide  their  men  when  they 
could  not  guide  themselves. 

''I  think,"  said  Captain  Watson,  "it 
would  be  well  to  try  some  prayer-meet- 
insrs.  You  could  find  a  few  who  would 
help  sustain  one,  could  you  not?" 

''I  think  I  could,"  replied  Walter. 
"  There  are  Tom  Hardy,  Pardee,  Jones, 
and  some  others.  I  am  glad  I  have  your 
permission.  I  will  appoint  one  for  to- 
night." 

Walter  entered  upon  the  work  in  ear- 
nest, and  many  were  induced  to  attend 


THE   CAMP.  149 

the  ''corporal's  prayer-meeting,"  as  they 
called  it,  because  "the  corporal  was  an 
honorable,  kind,  first-rate  fellow;"  and 
they  "would  go  to  his  prayer-meeting, 
if  they  never  went  to  another." 

"I  tell  you,"  said  Ben  Brown,  "the 
corporal  is  n't  one  of  your  mean  kind  of 
Christians.  He  do  n't  talk  to  you  about 
your  soul,  and  then,  when  you  ask  him  a 
favor,  put  on  a  long  face  and  say  he  can't 
grant  it." 

"That's  a  fact,"  replied  Johnson;  "if 
he  sees  a  fellow  in  trouble,  he  puts  his 
hand  in  his  pocket  and  pulls  out  his  last 
cent  for  him.  And  if  one  of  us  is  sick, 
he  is  always  ready;  and  if  anybody  is 
abused,  he  is  sure  to  defend  them.  Three 
cheers  for  the  corporal's  religion  and  the 
corporal's  prayer-meeting.  I'm  going  to 
hear  him  pray." 

The  little  seed  thus  sown  by  Walter 
and  his  friends  was  not  scattered  in  vain. 


150  WALTER  MAETIN. 

It  not  only  bore  good  fruit  in  the  hearts 
of  some  of  the  men,  so  that  the  still 
small  voice  of  contrition  was  heard,  and 
the  sounds  of  wickedness  were  ex- 
changed for  the  songs  of  praise,  but  the 
prayer-meetings  became  permanent,  and 
their  influence  caused  religion  to  strike 
deeper  root  in  the  mind  of  Walter. 
Every  dav  he  saw  more  and  more  the 
value  of  a  trust  in  Jesus.  He  saw  also 
how  much  the  soldiers  needed  a  true 
friend  and  counsellor,  and  his  affections 
grew  increasingly  interested  in  their  wel- 
fare. Many  of  them  were  young,  brought 
up  under  the  guidance  of  loving  parents, 
never  before  thrown  upon  their  own  re- 
sources, and  it  was  not  surprising  if  they 
went  astray,  needing  both  temporal  and 
spiritual  help. 

''Oh,  Walter,''  said  Robert  Fay,  who 
had  been  one  of  Walter's  schoolmates 
under  Mr> Train,  "I  don't  know  what  I 


THE    CAMP.  151 

shall  do.  I  have  n't  got  a  cent  of  money 
left.  You  know  I  had  leave  of  absence 
yesterday,  and  went  off  to  have  a  good 
time,  and  spent  all  I  had.  I  did  n't  mean 
to,  but  the  boys  went  in  for  a  supper 
and  a  treat,  and  I  didn't  want  to  be 
mean,  so  I  have  n't  any  thing  left." 

''Do  you  need  some  money?"  asked 
Walter. 

"Yes,  I  do  need  some ;  but  I  have  not 
any  way  to  get  it,  unless  I  can  sell  my 
guitar.  I  never  shall  use  it  any  more. 
I  don't  want  to  carry  it  south  with 
me,  and  I  suppose  we  shall  go  in  a  few 
days." 

''What  do  you  ask  for  the  guitar?" 

"  I  would  sell  it  for  two  dollars,  but  I 
do  n't  know  of  anybody  that  would  buy 
it." 

"I'll  buy  it,"  said  Walter,  ''and  send 
it  to  my  little  nieces.  But,  Kobert,  how 
much  better  it  would  be  for  you  if  you 


152  WALTEE   MAKTIN. 

would  not  go  with  such  men.  I  am  afraid 
they  will  lead  you  into  worse  trouble 
than  losing  your  money ;  I  am  afraid  you 
will  lose  your  soul." 

Robert  dropped  his  head,  and  was 
silent.     Walter  continued, 

"You  are  a  soldier  for  your  country, 
Robert;  be  a  soldier  for  Jesus.  Come 
to  our  prayer-meeting  to-night.'' 

Robert  consented,  and  afterwards  the 
prayer-meeting  became  his  greatest  pleas- 
ure. Thus  another  was  won  by  Walter's 
method  of  reaching  the  soul,  through  first 
relieving  the  wants  of  the  body. 

Was  not  Walter  right?  Was  not  this 
the  method  of  our  Saviour?  Did  he  not 
heal  the  body,  and  then  say,  "Thy  sins 
are  forgiven  thee  ?"  Did  he  not  feed  the 
multitude,  sending  them  away  full  and 
happy,  instead  of  faint  and  weary?  So 
Walter  turned  not  scornfully  away  from 
the  wicked  in  the  camp,  but  became  to 


THE    CAMP.  153 

them  tlie  ready  sympathizer  and  the  kind 
friend,  thus  gaining  the  ascendency  of 
love  over  them,  by  which  he  won  them 
to  Christ. 

But  now  there  came  another  call  over 
the  country.  Three  hundred  thousand 
men  were  wanted  ''for  three  years  or 
the  war."  More  homes  must  be  entered, 
and  more  hearts  desolated.  Many  who 
left  home  for  three  months  only,  now 
signed  their  names  for  three  years.  But 
Walter  refused. 

' '  I  would  almost  as  willingly  stand  up 
before  the  enemy  and  be  shot,"  he  wrote 
to  Ellen,  "as  refuse  to  enlist  for  the  war. 
It  seems  cowardly.  But  I  have  promised 
mother,  and  I  must  keep  my  promise.  1 
know  that  she  is  living  on  the  hope  that 
I  will  soon  be  at  home." 

"I  am  sorry,"  said  Captain  Watson, 
' '  that  you  do  not  go  south  with  us.  Your 
influence  is  invaluable.     The  officers  all 


154  WALTEE  MAETIN. 

want  you.  You  can  have  a  commission 
if  you  will  go." 

''Thank  you,  sir,"  replied  Walter ;  "I 
should  certainly  go  if  it  was  not  for  my 
mother.  She  cannot  be  persuaded  to  give 
her  consent,  and  I  do  not  feel  justified 
in  going  without  it.  My  father  is  very 
feeble,  more  so  than  ever." 

The  next  day  some  of  the  higher  offi- 
cers of  the  regiment  spoke  to  Walter 
in  flattering  terms,  and  offered  to  pro- 
cure him  a  commission  if  he  would  go  j 
but  he  felt  that  his  promise  to  his  moth- 
er was  a  sacred  thing,  and  no  induce- 
ments could  persuade  him  to  break  it. 
He  assisted  in  the  breaking  up  of  the 
camp,  bade  farewell  to  the  comrades  who 
loved  him,  and  though  his  thoughts  and 
his  wishes  followed  them,  he  returned  to 
his  home  to  comfort  his  parents,  and 
again  resume  the  every-day  duties  of 
private  life. 


THE  MISSION.  155 

CHAPTER   XI. 

THE   MISSION. 

"Oh  my  son,*'  said  Mrs.  Martin,  as 
she  once  more  grasped  his  hand,  and  felt 
his  warm  kiss  upon  her  cheek,  "I  am 
so  thankful  to  see  you  at  home  once 
more." 

''I  am  glad  to  be  here,  mother,"  he 
replied ;  "but  it  seems  wrong  to  seek  the 
comforts  of  home,  when  so  many  brave 
men  are  going  forth  to  battle  for  our 
country's  good.  I  feel  that  it  is  mean 
and  unworthy  to  shirk  my  duty  thus." 

"You  must  remember,"  said  Lizzie, 
"that  you  do  not  shirk.  It  is  not 
that.  You  only  leave  one  duty  that 
you  may  fulfil  another.  It  is  perhaps 
as  much  a  duty  to  attend  to  mother 
and  to  father,  under  the  circumstances, 


156  WALTER  MAETIN. 

as  to  figlit  for  your  countrj^,  thoiigli  it 
may  not  flatter  your  patriotism  quite  so 
much.'' 

"I  think  I  realize  all  my  duties  to 
them,"  replied  Walter;  "but  other  par- 
ents yield  up  their  sons ;  they  give  them 
freely  for  their  country." 

"  Yery  true,"  replied  Lizzie ;  "  but  you 
must  reflect  that  our  parents  have  just 
passed  through  a  series  of  severe  trials ; 
and  that  father  is  almost  helpless,  and 
cannot  remain  with  us  long." 

"I  know  it,  sister,  and  I  am  ready  to 
fulfil  my  duties  here.  I  will  not  leave 
mother  again." 

"I  do  not  ask  that,"  said  Mrs.  Mar- 
tin. "I  do  not  require  that  you  remain 
with  me  all  the  time.  I  know  }^our  best 
interests  demand  that  you  should  be 
away,  nor  would  I  withhold  you  from 
your  country  in  her  need ;  but  I  ask  you 
to  reflect  whether  there  are  not  other 


THE    MISSION.  167 

ways  111  whicli  you  can  serve  her  as 
truly  as  in  the  army's  ranks." 

"Perhaps  so,'"  replied  Walter;  "but 
it  appears  to  me  that  just  now  our  nation 
needs  plenty  of  powder  and  ball,  and 
men  to  use  them.  I  have  become  deeply 
impressed  too  with  the  religious  wants 
of  the  army,  and  I  should  like  to  remain 
with  those  young  men  to  sympathize  with 
them  and  lead  them  to  Jesus.  But  if 
duty  keeps  me  at  home,  all  honor  to  the 
brave  men  who  are  gone,  and  to  those 
Avho  may  go.  And  now  let  us  drop  the 
subject,  for  since  I  have  come  home  to 
make  you  happy,  I  must  think  about  my 
employment  here.  Did  you  send  for  my 
books?" 

' '  Yes, "  replied  Mrs.  Martin,  ' '  they  are 
all  at  home." 

"Then  I  can  study  some,"  said  he. 
•'  To-morrow  I  think  I  will  go  out  and  see 
Mr.  Childs." 


158  WALTEE   MAETIN. 

That  evening  Walter  went  to  the 
post-ofi&ce,  and  received  many  cordial 
greetings  from  the  people  who  crowded 
aronnd  him  with  inquiries  for  their  loved 
ones  in  camp.  Occasionally  the  ques- 
tions, ''What  did  you  back  out  for?"  and, 
''Why  didn't  you  go  ahead  with  the 
others  ?"  tinged  his  cheeks  with  crimson, 
for  he  was  sensitive  on  this  point,  and 
could  not  brook  that  his  filial  obedience 
should  be  misconstrued  into  cowardice  or 
recreancy. 

He  was  somewhat  humbled  by  the 
implied  taunts  ;  but,  conscious  that  he 
had  endeavored  to  act  in  conformity 
with  his  sense  of  right,  he  felt  that  those 
who  did  not  understand  his  motives  and 
situation  had  no  right  to  judge  his  con- 
duct. 

"Surely,''  he  thought,  as  he  walked 
slowly  home,  "God  will  direct  me  in  the 
way  I  should  go,  if  I  but  lean  upon  his 


THE   MISSION.  159 

arm.  I  will  wait  patiently,  and  lie  shall 
direct  my  steps.'' 

The  next  day  he  took  the  familiar  road 
to  the  home  of  Mr.  Childs,  and  was  greet- 
ed with  the  cordial  welcome  of  previous 
days. 

"Eeally/'  said  the  good  pastor,  "you 
have  taken  a  new  color,  if  you  have  n't 
been  far  south.  You  are  quite  brown,  a 
good,  healthy  color." 

"Yes,  sir,"  said  Walter,  smiling;  "be- 
ing in  the  wind  and  fresh  air  so  much  is 
an  excellent  thing  for  the  complexion.  It 
takes  out  the  milk  and  water,  and  gives 
the  fresh,  ruddy  bloom  of  health." 

"Isn't  it  fun,"  asked  Willie,  "to  live 
as  they  do  in  camp?" 

"It  is  not  exactly  fun,"  said  Walter, 
"it  is  rather  too  hard  for  that ;  but  it  is 
pretty  exhilarating  sometimes.  It  is  ex- 
citing business  for  us  quiet  people  to  be 
learning   how  to  shoot  our   fellow-men. 


160  WALTER  MAETIX. 

Camp  life  may  do  very  well  here,  but 
there  will  be  hardships  enough  when  they 
reach  the  scene  of  action.'' 

"  I  wish  I  was  a  little  older,"  said  Wil- 
lie with  kindling  eye,  "I  should  try  it 
pretty  quick.  How  wicked  for  those  reb- 
els to  attempt  to  dissolve  our  Union." 

"Yes,"  said  Walter,  'Hhat  is  the  idea 
which  sustains  the  soldiers  in  the  pros- 
pect before  them.  They  talk  these  things 
over,  and  become  more  patriotic  every 
day.  There  will  be  a  large  missionary 
field  in  the  army,"  continued  he,  address- 
ing Mr.  Childs.  "It  is  surprising  how 
soon  young  men  who  have  been  well 
trained  at  home,  catch  the  new  habits 
about  them ;  and  in  camp  men  of  all  kinds 
are  thrown  promiscuously  together." 

"This  war  will  open  to  us  many  new 
duties,"  replied  Mr.  Childs.  "  Have  you 
formed  any  plans  jet  for  yourself?" 

"Nothing  definite,"  said  Walter.    "I 


THE   MISSION.        •  161 

cfinnot  feel  quite  like  entering  college  in 
times  like  these.  Wlien  men  are  nerv- 
ing for  the  fight,  and  blood  is  being  freely 
offered,  and  clouds  are  thick  and  black, 
I  cannot  sit  down  tamely  to  a  four  years' 
study  of  Greek  and  Latin.  I  ought  not 
so  to  use  my  time.  I  ought  to  be  at 
work,  helping  my  countrymen  in  some 
way.'' 

' '  You  are  enthusiastic, "  said  Mr.  Childs  j 
"you  savor  of  the  camp,  but  I  believe 
you  are  right.  We  must  be  enthusiastic, 
or  our  country  will  fail.  And  yet,"  he 
added  thoughtfully,  "it  is  rather  anoma- 
lous for  me,  whose  business  it  is  to  teach 
men  the  way  of  peace,  to  say  to  them, 
*You  must  fight.'" 

"This  seems  home-like,"  said  Walter, 
as  he  took  his  accustomed  seat  at  the  ta- 
ble. "You  see,  Mrs.  Childs,  I  have  been 
dining  lately  from  a  tin  plate  and  eating 
soup  from  a  tin  cup." 

W.Martin.  H 


162  WALTER   MARTIN. 

Ada  laughed  merrily.  "I  should  like 
to  see  that  way  of  dining,"  said  she. 

"I  should  like  to  try  it,"  said  Willie. 

"Well,  I  am  glad  you  are  not  old 
enough,"  said  Ada.  "  Do  you  think,  Mr. 
Martin,  that  it  is  right  for  all  the  boys 
and  men  to  be  so  eager  to  go  off  to  fight 
and  die?" 

''Yes,"  said  Walter,  "I  think  they 
ought  to  be  willing  to  give  themselves  in 
a  cause  so  just  as  ours ;  but  I  admit  it  is 
a  great  sacrifice  for  the  mothers  and  sis- 
ters who  remain  at  home." 

''  I  should  like  to  go,"  said  Willie.  ''I 
should  like  to  stand  face  to  face  with  the 
ugliest  regiment  this  side  of  the  Gulf." 

"You  hardly  realize  what  ^u  say, 
Willie,"  said  Mr.  Childs.  "War  is  a 
solemn  thing.  It  is  not  to  be  desired  or 
sought,  and  must  be  accepted  only  when 
every  alternative  fails." 

Walter  enjoyed  every  moment  of  his 


THE   MISSION.  163 

visit,  and  at  night  when  he  parted  from 
the  beloved  minister  and  received  his  best 
wishes,  he  felt  stronger  in  that  hopeful 
confidence  in  Christ  which  is  ''an  anchor 
to  the  soul,  both  sure  and  steadfast." 
He  determined  anew  that  each  day  he 
would  seek  for  strength  to  perform  the 
duties  of  that  day,  leaving  the  result  with 
Him  whose  promise  is  for  ever  sure. 

Some  weeks  passed  away,  during  which 
he  remained  to  bless  his  mother  with  his 
loving  presence,  taking  unwearied  care  of 
his  invalid  father,  striving  to  forget  his 
own  desires,  and  growing  firmer  in  the 
faith  that  if  his  heavenly  Master  had  a 
work  for  him  to  do.  He  would  make  it 
known  to  him  in  due  time ;  and  having 
committed  himself  to  the  great,  loving 
Shepherd,  he  knew  that  he  was  safe  in 
his  care. 

Tlie  morning  rays  of  a  pleasant  day 
shone  upon  the  pale  face  of  Mrs.  Martin 


164  WALTER  MARTIN. 

as  she  stood  at  her  window  watching  the 
steps  of  her  only  son  returning  from  his 
accustomed  walk  to  the  post-office ;  and 
as  she  noted  his  firm  and  manly  mien, 
she  said  to  herself,  "  I  have  no  boys  now, 
the  last  one  is  already  a  man.  I  must 
yield  him  up  to  the  stage  of  action ;  I 
cannot  expect  him  to  live  this  indolent 
life  and  be  happy." 

"  Mother,"  said  he,  coming  briskly  in, 
"I  have  a  letter  from  Mr.  Eastman." 

"What  does  he  write?"  she  asked. 

"  He  says  that  he  is  about  to  give  up 
the  academy  he  is  teaching,  to  prepare 
for  the  ministry;  and  that  he  will  rec- 
ommend me  to  the  trustees  if  I  wish  it. 
Do  you  think  I  had  better  accept  the 
offer?" 

Mrs.  Martin  considered  a  moment,  and 
then  said,  ''The  hand  of  the  Lord  is  in 
it,  Walter.  You  need  some  employ- 
ment ;  my  wants  are  supplied,  and  I  am 


THE  MISSION.  165 

hajopy  with  Lizzie.  You  like  teaching, 
and  I  must  not  ask  you  to  live  in  idle- 
ness.    You  are  safe  from  danger  there." 

Walter  smiled.  "lam  safe  anywhere, 
mother,  under  the  protection  of  Him  who 
ever  watcheth  us." 

"I  know  it,  my  son;  but  I  can  not 
shake  off  this  terrible  fear  of  losing  you." 

The  young  man  thought  of  the  three 
mounds  yet  fresh  with  the  dews  of  weep- 
ing, of  the  two  sons  away  on  the  far 
wild  prairie,  of  the  invalid  husband  and 
father,  and  he  could  find  no  words  of 
reproach  for  the  lacerated  heart  of  the 
loving  mother.  He  next  mentioned  the 
offer  to  his  father,  and  asked  him  if  he 
thought  he  could  spare  him. 

"I  suppose  it  is  best  that  you  should 
go,"  replied  Mr.  Martin;  "but  you  will 
see  me  no  more  in  this  world." 

"Oh  father,"  replied  Walter,  "I  hope 
I  shall ;  I  hope  you  will  live  a  long  time 


166  WALTER  MARTIN. 

yet,  tliougli  you  may  not  be  well  again 
as  you  used  to  be/' 

''  No,"  said  Mr.  Martin,  ''it  cannot  be ; 
I  feel  that  I  shall  go  soon." 

The  result  proved  the  truth  of  the  fa- 
ther's anticipations  :  erelong  Walter  was 
called' from  his  school  to  see  another  add- 
ed to  the  list  of  those  already  gone  be- 
yond this  vale.  As  he  went  about  the 
desolate  house,  and  memory  recalled  the 
jovial  voices  and  the  familiar  countenan- 
ces of  those  who  so  lately  had  occupied 
those  rooms,  he  asked  himself  why  he 
was  spared. 

"Why  is  the  full  tide  of  health  flush- 
ing through  my  veins?"  he  said.  ''Am 
I  better  than  they?  Nay,  verily;  and  if 
I  am  still  kept  on  the  earth,  it  is  because 
there  is  a  work  for  me  to  do.  Heavenly 
Father,  teach  me  what  that  work  is,  and 
grant  me  grace  for  its  performance." 

A  still  small  voice  within  replied,  "Do 


THE   MISSION.  161 

thy  duty  this  day.      The  morrow's  work 
shall   be  told   thee  when    the    morrow 


'*  This  is  all  I  need  to  know/'  said  he. 
"  This  day  my  duty  is  towards  my  moth- 
er ;  I  '11  seek  her  now." 

He  found  her  sitting  dreamily  in  the 
next  room,  and  taking  a  chair  by  her 
side  he  softly  placed  his  arm  about  her 
neck. 

"  Mother,"  said  he,  "the  house  is  silent 
and  voiceless.  I  cannot  leave  you  here. 
Lizzie  has  her  husband  and  little  one  to 
comfort  her;  why  cannot  you  go  and 
stay  with  Ellen  till  the  first  sadness  is 
worn  off?  I  suppose  I  must  return  to 
my  school." 

''My  son,"  said  she,  "the  sadness 
rests  too  heavily  to  be  easily  worn  away 
anywhere;  but  I  will  do  as  you  think 
best." 

Ellen  welcomed  the  stricken  mother 


168  WALTER  MARTIN. 

with  her  whole  afifections,  and  Walter 
returned  to  his  school. 

Meantime  the  battle's  tramp,  the 
deathly  struggles,  and  the  soldiers'  groans 
were  ringing  from  hill  to  hill;  the  cries 
for  more  help  came  up  from  our  armies 
in  the  field,  and  Walter  could  with"  diffi- 
culty suppress  the  burning  desire  to  go 
forth  for  his  beloved  country  and  her  suf- 
fering cause.  Every  evening  was  occu- 
pied with  the  news  from  the  scene  of 
conflict,  and  the  soul  of  the  j^oung  man 
kindled  with  longings  to  participate  in 
the  active  labors  of  the  fearful  work. 

He  thought  of  the  young  men,  pale 
with  wounds  and  agony ;  of  their  weari- 
some marches  and  nights  of  watching ;  of 
the  unprepared  souls  passing  away  to  the 
eternal  Judge,  and  he  longed  to  be  there 
to  comfort  and  to  heal,  and  to  point  the 
perishing  to  Jesus,  "who  taketh  away  the 
sin  of  the  world." 


THE   MISSION.  169 

Grod,  wlio  had  put  these  desires  within 
him,  opened  a  way  by  which  he  could 
fulfil  the  wishes  of  his  daily  thoughts. 
The  young  pastor  of  the  village  called 
upon  him,  and  as  they  conversed  upon 
the  theme  current  in  every  mouth,  Wal- 
ter opened  his  heart  and  frankly  ex-, 
pressed  his  inmost  wishes. 

"I  cannot  rest  contented  here,"  he 
said,  ''my  country  needs  me;  and  yet 
my  mother  is  so  unwilling  that  I  should 
enter  the  army,  that  I  am  unable  to  de- 
cide where  my  duty  lies." 

"Perhaps  I  can  make  a  suggestion," 
said  Mr.  Carnes,  "which  will  be  a  com- 
promise. G-o  as  a  missionary  in  the 
army.  Perhaps  your  mother  will  con- 
sent to  that ;  and  you  may  be  as  useful 
as  if  you  should  take  the  musket  and  en- 
ter the  field." 

The  idea  was  pleasing  to  Walter's 
ardent  mind,  but  he  could  see  no  way 


170  WALTEE   MAETIN. 

for  the  accomplishment  of  such  a  pur- 
pose. 

"I  can  assist  you/'  said  Mr.  Carnes, 
''and  get  you  an  appointment." 

Walter  agreed  to  this  immediately, 
provided  he  could  obtain  his  mother's 
consent.  He  found  this  an  easier  task 
than  he  expected ;  and  at  the  close  of  his 
term  he  left  the  quiet  north,  to  seek  her 
brave  men  who  were  giving  themselves 
on  the  altar  of  freedom,  in  the  sanguin- 
ary conflict,  in  weariness  and  in  perils. 

"  If  I  may  but  lead  the  lost  to  Jesus, '^ 
he  said,  "  I  would  willingi}^  share  their 
sufferings  and  bear  their  toil." 

In  a  letter  to  his  mother  he  wrote, 
"  If  you  could  see  the  joy  with  which  the 
men  welcome  me,  mother,  you  would  re- 
joice that  you  had  the  opportunity  of 
giving  me  to  this  cause.  I  am  glad  I  am 
here.  I  only  ask  the  high  privilege  of 
laboring  for  my  fellow-men.     I  think  of 


THE    MISSION.  m 

you,  dear  motlier,  and  you  will  pray  for 
me,  and  our  Father  will  hear  your  pray- 
ers. Should  I  ever  teach  again,  as  I 
formerly  thought  God  designed  me  to 
do,  I  should  like  to  teach  in  these  south- 
ern lands,  until  ignorance  and  sin  are 
.  dispelled  from  her  borders,  and  freedom 
waves  her  flag  over  the  hearts  of  her 
sons." 


172  WALTER  MARTIN. 


CHAPTER  XII. 

WALTER'S  CONCLUSION. 

The  closing  words  of  Walter's  letter 
indicate  the  new  ideas  which  were  dawn- 
ing upon  him.  He  saw  a  new  field  for 
teaching.  A  new  sphere  of  labor  open- 
ed before  him,  and  he  thought  the  early 
and  repeated  callings  which  had  been  in 
his  heart  from  the.  time  he  left  the  fac- 
tory till  now,  callings  to  prepare  for  a 
life  of  teaching,  which  had  haunted  him 
even  while  infatuated  for  the  army,  were 
about  to  be  realized.  His  heavenly  Fa- 
ther had  directed  his  steps  to  the  land 
of  the  benighted,  where  the  harvest  was 
plenteous. 

Walking  over  the  dusty  roads  of  Yir- 
ginia  one  warm  day,  he  paused  to  remove 
his  hat  and  wipe  the  perspiration  from 


WALTER'S    CONCLUSION.  173 

his  brow,  Avhen  an  aged  man  of  a  dark 
hue  rose  from  the  ground  and  sahited 
him. 

"Ah,  my  friend,"  said  Walter,  ''this 
is  a  warm  day.  But  what  have  you 
there  in  your  hand  V^ 

''Dis,  massa,  is  a  hymn-book  I'se  been 
readin'.'^ 

"Can  you  read?"  asked  Walter. 

"Yes,  massa,  I  larn  to  read  when  I 
was  a  boy,  toting  ole  massa's  chiVern  to 
school.  They  teach  me  how  to  read. 
Ole  massa  was  awful  mad,  an'  he  whip 
me  'cause  I  know  how ;  but  I  say,  '  Whip 
on,  ole  feller ;  you  can't  whip  dat  out  of 
me,  no  way." 

"And  what  do  you  think  of  the  times 
now?"  asked  Walter. 

"Tears  like  dey  mighty  good,  massa. 
Ole  massa  leave  me,  Massa  Lincoln  make 
me  free ;  de  Union  people  give  me  dis 
hymn-book,    an'  dis    yer,"    drawing    a 


n4  WALTEE   MAETIN. 

Bible  from  Ms  pocket;  "an'  bress  de 
Lord,  I  can  read  'em  an'  nobody  to  whip 
me." 

TTalter  found  these  colored  people 
wherever  he  went.  Men  and  women, 
boys  and  girls  appeared  before  him  at 
every  turn,  and  his  heart  warmed  with 
pity  for  them.  There  were  not  many 
who  could  read  like  the  old  man  by  the 
road-side ;  they  were  ignorant,  and  every 
day  the  conviction  gained  a  hold  upon 
Walter's  mind  that  instruction  v;as  the 
life-work  to  which  he  v^^as  called. 

''I  never  could  understand  mv  mis- 
sion  at  the  Xorth,"  said  he,  ''and  now 
I  see  the  reason.  My  work  was  not 
there.  Here  the  fields  are  white  for  the 
harvest ;  already  other  laborers  are  put- 
ting in  the  sickle  and  gathering  the  full 
grain ;  I  must  join  their  band,  and  thrust 
my  sickle  in  with  theirs." 

The  wish  of  his  heart  has  been  srati- 


WALTER'S    CONCLUSION.  1^5 

fied,  and  every  day  lie  gathers  the  dark 
faces  about  him  and  instructs  them  as  he 
formerly  instructed  the  pale-faced  chil- 
dren of  the  North. 

''When  I  go  to  school  in  the  morn- 
ing,'^ he  says,  "they  meet  me  and  ea- 
gerly tell  me  how  much  they  have  learn- 
ed since  yesterday;  and  I  endeavor  to 
put  in  their  hearts  the  true  ideas  of  man- 
hood. I  have  in  my  school  nearly  a 
dozen  George  Washingtons;  for  the  poor 
mothers,  having  no  name  of  their  own, 
delight  in  bestowing  the  names  of  great 
men  upon  their  children. 

"Every  day  their  black  faces  glisten 
upon  me  as  I  teach  them ;  they  sing  to 
me  the  songs  of  Jesus,  and  I  am  con- 
tented with  the  mission  my  God  has 
given  me.  What  the  future  may  bring 
forth  is  hidden  with  my  Father ;  but  I 
know  that  they  who  put  their  trust  in 
Him   shall   surely  prosper.     With   the 


116  WALTER   MAETIN. 

wise  preacher  I  can  say,  'Let  us  hear 
the  conclusion  of  the  whole  matter :  Fear 
God,  and  keep  his  commandments;  for 
this  is  the  whole  duty  of  man.'" 


RARE  BOOK 
COLLECTION 


THE  LIBRARY  OF  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF 

NORTH  CAROLINA 

AT 

CHAPEL  HILL 

Wi  liner 
1116 


